


The Bravest Thing Part 3

by livvels1012



Series: The Bravest Thing [3]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of an m/m slash relationship no spoilers yall know me i love a slow burn, MomGwen, Parental Death, Platonic Relationships, dadvid, graphic mentions/depictions of child abuse and neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-11-28 04:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livvels1012/pseuds/livvels1012
Summary: Gwen comes to Sleepy Peak to take matters into her own hands and to provide whatever she can to the investigation into Rishima's murder, and also to try to get things back on track in time for Max's incoming birthday. Aster decides regardless of what David wants, she's going to ensure Max will be ready for whatever comes next. David starts to doubt Aster's honesty, and also frets over whether or not he really is able to provide a safe, good home as a foster dad. Max pushes the people around him away out of guilt for what his father has done, and starts to uncover troubling things about Sleepy Peak's history, not realizing just how much he's going to unravel by pulling that thread.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my gosh, everyone, the feedback has been phenomenal! You're all so supportive and amazing, and some of you tested my "i will do it because you told me not to" part of my personality with the Winnie Defense Squad. Don't worry, I didn't. Also, a big thank you to titaniumshield on tumblr who made this GORGEOUS fanart for me! Give them lots of love! I've posted it at the start of the chapter.

  
  
By: titaniumshield.tumblr.com  
  


David was allowed to do a little bit of reading or watch T.V at a quiet volume for short periods of time now by the doctor, but only just enough that it took the edge off of the boredom and the boredom felt like it was more unbearable than the itchy cast, the persistent throbbing dull discomfort in his wrist and the concussion itself. He was trying to back into the habit of reading, but it was harder than he thought and it only did so much to help. He wasn’t normally on his phone, but he found himself longing to be allowed some screen time, even if to just send Max some reassuring texts.  
  
Really, the only thing that helped him keep from going absolutely nuts in the hospital were visits. He was just trying in vain to doze off because it was really the only thing he could do to speed along recovery when he heard a tap on the door and he was wide awake again.  
  
His heart fluttered at the prospect of seeing his family, that a little poofy black haired, potty-mouthed boy would be in tow this time. “It’s open!” he called, keeping his voice soft since loud sounds were still bugging him. The doctor said it was normal to be a little sensitive to light and sound in the early days.  
  
He watched Aster come in, a bouquet of sunflowers on her arm carefully selected by Victoria, but his eyes just glanced around and behind her. And his heart sank. Aster took one look at his crestfallen face and she sighed quietly, “Sorry. I did ask him...He just doesn’t want to leave Winnie, she’s so sad right now in the cone and all.”  
  
“It’s okay,” David said softly, laying back down. He knew an excuse from Max when he heard one, even if it was technically true. _ You can’t force him to see you. And he has every reason to not want to _ . “How’s Officer Robyn?”  
  
“Still in the ICU. ” she set the flowers down on the side table but she remained standing, which tipped him off but he didn’t know what for. He just sensed that if she was on edge, he had to be as well. “I wish you could have more time to rest, Davey, but I have to get your statement. Think you feel up for talking about it?”  
  
David would be lying if he said yes. In all honesty, he felt more battered and mistreated than he had in a long long time. Being stabbed, burned and knocked around at Camp Campbell didn’t compare to how he felt physically or emotionally at the moment. But he wanted to help. He just felt so _ useless _ . So, he sat up straight with a nod and waited as Aster set up the audio recorder. “This is Chief of Police Aster Teabloom. I am recording this on the November third, two thousand and sixteen. Can you place state your full name for the record?”  
  
“David Christopher Rowntree.”  
  
“Thank you. Now, just take your time and give me your best, honest recount of the events of October thirty first, two thousand and sixteen.”  
  
It was easy to talk about the beginning, and he remembered it in better detail than he expected. Things like when they left the house, what streets did they take and so on were clear in his mind. But when it came time to actually talk about their attacker, his throat began to tighten and his palms started to sweat. He described her in halting words, the white clothing and mask, how she clearly followed them and Winifred’s behavior.  
  
“We got home and told Officer Robyn about her. I checked the doors when I got inside. I know for a fact that they were both locked, there was absolutely _ no way _ that I left the deadbolts undone on the front or back. But after I put Max to bed, I went downstairs to your office and--” he gulped. It still made him feel sick. The back door so casually open, and how it felt like the two of them were exposed to every danger in the world beyond. Their home had been breached. “I don’t know if she picked the lock or had a key...It wasn’t damaged, right?”  
  
“That’s-- correct. She didn’t force it open.”  
  
“I locked it. I know I did,” he insisted, not sure why he kept having to repeat it but he couldn’t stop. He flinched as Aster put her hand on his arm and he wondered why. He was never afraid to let her or most people touch him before, but now it felt like every part of his body was tender with raw nerves and he was going to tear open if anyone else got into his space.  
  
It was like there was a little shadow monster in his head, with the sole purpose of tearing down any semblance of certainty. _ You only had to make your choices with common sense. You should have listened to Aster. She knows better than you. She protects people. How could you be so stupid? Max trusted you! And you put him in danger! _ _  
_ _  
_ _ He’s better off staying with them. _ _  
_ _  
_ But he kept his expression neutral. “You believe me, right?” he asked her desperately. If anyone could talk him down, it was his godmother he looked up to so much.  
  
“I do. If you’re ready, we can move on to what happened next.” her tone was level and calm, and it helped to pull him out of his downward spiral. She didn’t say anything else, since it was a professional thing, but she did smile at him reassuringly.  
  
David nodded and waited until she withdrew her hand. He closed his eyes and tried to place himself back in the dark house, now that his memory was growing strained. He did his best to remember the sounds and smells, the sensation of the stair wood bending underfoot as he moved as quickly as possible to get to Max. “I thought someone was in the house, so I went to get Max. I woke him up and I was-- I was going to take him to your office to hide in there with him. It was just at the bottom of the stairs, I thought we could make it or maybe even get out of the house but…”  
  
He felt so stupid. _ I should have just locked us in his room and called the police. I made it all worse. _  
  
David glanced at Aster, who was watching him unblinkingly with the recorder, in hand. The way she stared him down was almost challenging and something clicked. _ She’s testing me. But what for this time? _ _  
_ _  
_ Aster’s presence in his early childhood had been spotty. She was around for holidays and if his mom really couldn’t find another sitter and she just happened to be available, but she didn’t truly become involved in his life until the critical stages of his mother’s illness. And then after she passed, Aster stepped in more than ever. He could sense Granda didn’t much care for her taking the reigns from him on parenting, but David knew there was an unspoken understanding. Mom wanted her to look after him. And Granda wouldn’t disobey her wishes.  
  
Years of teaching him to survive in the wilderness, of pushing him to make good decisions, to set an example for others. To let his anger and frustration give way for wisdom and kindness, to be that same pillar of sunshine his mother had been. Because she believed he could be. He thought Granda was demanding, but the truth was, nobody had higher expectations of him than his godmother. And he wanted her to be proud. Because if she was proud, then his mother was too, in a round about way.  
  
But he always wondered why Aster always seemed to be preparing him for something, during moments such as when she taught him how to properly look down the sights of a rifle and he realized one day why the targets were switched from game to humanoid cut outs like at the police range. It wasn’t because the old ones were too worn out.  
  
_ She doesn’t...she couldn’t have known this was going to happen. Could she? No, that’s completely ridiculous. It’s the concussion, it’s making you think crazy stuff. _ _  
_ _  
_ “But she was already at the stairs, and we couldn’t get out. So I went back into Max’s room and locked the door. You know that secret room in there? The one I played in?”  
  
“In the wall? Yes. It was built when the house was.”  
  
“I hid him in there.”  
  
“Did the intruder say anything to you?”  
  
It was a little fuzzy for David, the closer the memories were to the moment he blacked out. But he could remember the words that terrified him to his core. “She said she wasn’t going to hurt us. She only wanted to give us a message. ‘From father to son’. And she mentioned Sunil by name when she was…”  
  
_ Trying to kill me _ . David sank back into the pillows and pressed his hand against his eyes, the other completely useless to him still. He felt his chin wobbling and eyes stinging, and a pitiful whine that announced incoming sobs in his throat. And he choked it all down. “She--you-- you came home. And I think she knocked me out.”  
  
He knew Aster fired her weapon, but he never heard it and he didn’t know how many times. He only knew that their attacker was currently alive but injured, and in custody, likely being questioned. He hoped to God that she would confess something, anything that would let the police catch Sunil and lock him up. Then Max would be safe. Max would get to finally move on with his life without the man who hurt him hindering every brave step the boy took towards betterment. Aster clicked the stop button and he felt the bed shift as she sat down on the edge of it.  
  
He didn’t move his hand as she rested hers on his hand and gently scratched her fingers through his fluffy auburn hair. “Davey, I understand how you feel. You almost died. You-- you thought you were safe and found out you weren’t. But you can’t let it rattle you, not now, not when Max still needs you. Sunil won’t stop now. She was a professional, and she wasn’t the only one. He has money and power, and he’s cruel, which makes people like her expendable and easy to replace. He’s going to try again, and whoever is with Max when he does can’t hold back. You can’t hold back.”  
  
“What part of me getting hospitalized after fighting her seems like holding back to you?!”  
  
“The part where you didn’t want to hurt her.”  
  
He snapped his mouth shut and lowered his hand to look Aster in the eyes, then down. “But I didn’t. I don’t want to hurt anybody. I’m not like you, I can’t...I can’t do the kinds of things you can and carry them with me.”  
  
“You are on mighty thin ice, son. Don’t be so arrogant as to think you have _ any _ idea what I carry.” she yanked her hand away, and the way she hissed those words, the heavy weight in them sent a chill down his spine. “Take it from someone who knows it to be true. If you want to protect your son, you have to fight them like you’re going to _ kill _ them.”  
  
“What? You can’t be serious! I could never--”  
  
“Because they will kill you and whatever they do to Max won’t be so kind.”  
  
He stared at her, searching her eyes for any hint of exaggeration, any sign that she was just trying to bolster him. But David didn’t find any. He sat up and leaned back from her, a little unsettled by the whole situation. _ They. Who’re _ ** _they_ ** _ ? _ She knows something. He thought, as Aster stood up and flexed her hand, her arm shuddering as she winced and held it close, and he wondered if her phantom syndrome was acting up. “How much do you know about Sunil?” he asked carefully. It felt like she was condemning herself by turning away from him.  
“I’ll bring Max to visit you tomorrow.”  
  
_ Changing the subject? Real mature. _ “Don’t force him to.” he said, meaning it despite how badly he wanted to see Max, just to see how he was managing. “Aster, if you want me to take your advice seriously, you can’t hide things from me. I don’t care if it’s confidential investigation stuff, it’s my-- it’s _ Max _ that’s in danger. And I’m entitled to all the information that can help me protect him.”  
  
Aster shrugged her coat back on and paused as she stared at the floor, then finished adjusting the collar with closed eyes and a sigh through the nose. David noticed more than ever the gray in her cinnamon hair. “Remember when I said someone identified Rishima’s body?”  
  
The tension in the room was so taught, David was scared that when it snapped it would actually hurt somebody. “Yes…?”  
  
“The person who identified her was your friend. Your coworker, Gwen.”  
  
It snapped. David watched her check her phone as she kept talking, in the flat and factual police officer voice that didn’t do anything to relieve the sheer horror climbing up in his chest. “Apparently, she was visiting Rishima on a monthly basis, and convinced her to leave her husband. She picked her up in Portland, and drove all the way home to Sacramento with her. According to Gwen, they were getting ready to speak to the police, and had no reason to believe they’d been seen or followed. Then, she came home one day from work and Rishima was gone. We called her to identify the body because she was the one that reported Rishima missing. Later on, your friend’s home was vandalized by the culprits.”  
  
David’s arm moved of its own accord but he grabbed the sunflowers and hucked them in her direction. Aster swiftly side stepped them and looked at him with narrowed eyes, and David thought for a second _ Oh gosh, what am I doing?! That was so mean! _ But he was angry. Very, very angry!  
  
“You knew my friend was in danger and _ you didn’t tell me? _ !” he shouted at her, not caring that it made his head hurt. “Aster, how could you? I trust you! Max trusts you! How can you hide these things?”  
  
“I didn’t tell you because I’m having her transported here for police protection and her help in the investigation,” Aster growled. “And she was going to tell you herself. She gets off the plane in two hours.”  
  
David didn’t expect that. He went very quiet and looked down, embarrassed at his temper which was rapidly fizzling out.  
  
Something crackled loudly as it smacked him in the face and he shook his head, blinking as he found the bouquet in his lap again and just caught sight of Aster leaving the room as he looked up. _ Okay, that’s fair. _

_  
_

* * *

  
  
Gwen was more exhausted than she had ever been in her entire life, and that was not an overstatement but it did mean she was just barely a rung above being clinically _ dead _.

She found that while staying with her parents, she still couldn’t find a decent night’s sleep. The image of Rishima cold and gone from the world on a metal slab was too much to bear, and now that she knew she was undergoing on autopsy, being taken apart to identify any sign of what had killed her-- no. Not what and not killed. Who and murdered.  
  
Gwen knew for an absolute fact that Rishima’s death was foul play and she was certain who was responsible, but she couldn’t push the issue like she would have liked to. She was lucky Aster intervened and cleared her of suspicion, considering she was a stranger Rishima got into a van with before she showed up dead.  
  
After hours of hysterical crying and staring off into space, she was allowed to go home with her father.  
  
But a phone call and a few more breakdowns later, Gwen gathered herself and her suitcase up, piled onto a plane and found herself back in Oregon, then Sleepy Peak once again. She saw the mountains and pines on the horizon that hadn’t changed at all, and the Camp Campbell billboard and entrance on her way into the town itself. Her heart twisted in a bittersweet way, as she felt a mixture of resentment and love for the place.  
  
She wanted to visit David in the hospital first, but her plane had been delayed and so she had missed visiting hours. She had wanted to text him, but according to Aster, he couldn’t have a phone with the fucking concussion he was recovering from.  
  
In the end, it was likely for the best. Every time she looked at his contact, she had no idea what to say. She couldn’t even summon up some fake normal nonsense; Gwen just felt so blocked up until she could face him and tell him everything. And then he would hug her, and he would be so warm and comforting with the honey sweet voice that found just the right words to make it better. She needed her ray of sunshine to clear the storm clouds, she needed her teammate, her best friend to help her get through the hell that was only beginning.  
  
But what was worse was that she hadn’t texted Max for a full three days. He had texted her off and on, and she could only manage polite half assed, monosyllabic responses so he wouldn’t feel like she was ignoring him. He deserved better.  
  
She made a call before getting on the plane to a certain florist shop and got a sing-songy greeting after the first ring.  
  
_ “Thank you for calling the Jolly Pot Florists! This is Victoria, how can I help you?” _ _  
_ _  
_ The name was so darn cute, and Gwen was tempted to ask the story behind it but she had forty five minutes of sleep and had to get through this. “Hi, uh, this is-- I’m actually a friend of David’s? David Rowntree? He said I could reach you with this number. My name is Gwen--”  
  
_ “Oh. My. GOODNESS! It is so nice to meet you! Well, over the phone. But I’ll get to meet you tomorrow, won’t I? I’ve heard so many stories about you from the boys. Max just _ ** _adores _ ** _ you. He wouldn’t tell so many embarrassing tales if he didn’t.” _ _  
_ _  
_ “Ha, yeah. That sounds like him. I was actually wondering if I could swing by after my flight to see him?”  
  
_ “Normally I would love that, but he actually has an appointment right around then and he’s feeling a bit anxious about it.” _ _  
_ _  
_ “What-- what kind of appointment?” Gwen’s stomach dropped. She thought he hadn’t been hurt during the break in. Was it his asthma? She still couldn’t believe Max had it, not with how much he ran around and yelled at camp, but David explained asthma varies between kids. In his case, he would actually show little to no symptoms during warm weather, unless there was something else to aggravate it, like fumes or smoke. During late night calls when he stayed to watch Max or had him stay over at his house, there were some instances where he had to go early because Max was coughing up a storm in his sleep. And hearing that cough made Gwen’s own chest hurt in sympathy.  
  
_ “He’s seeing his therapist for the first time.” _ _  
_ _  
_ Gwen anxiously chewed at her lip. Max was having a hard time enough as it was. She had no doubt he had caught on to things, that whatever had happened on Halloween was directly connected to his father. And if she knew anything about that kid, trying to make him talk about his feelings when he was legitimately needing to was usually a one way ticket to becoming an arson victim.  
  
“Let me take him,” she blurted it out. “I’ve been to therapy and stuff, I have tons of experience with it and he might feel better if I could walk him through it, y’know?”  
  
After a short bit convincing her, Victoria was sold on the idea.  
  
The uber dropped her in front of the store and Gwen hauled her suitcase out after tipping her driver, and stared up at the sign. It was a rounded teapot with a bouquet of flowers bursting out of the spout, colorful and rustically worn. Suitably adorable.

Gwen headed inside, the bell tinkling merrily on the door and she awkwardly stood there with her suitcase handle gripped tightly in her fingers. She was all too aware of how crazy she must look, in her rumpled clothes and the dark circles under her eyes, her hair crammed into a jaw clip haphazardly. She did her best to look less mangy, but what she really needed was sleep and peace of mind. Fat chance she would get either.  
  
She spotted a woman arranging some flowers on a table with ribbons and pretty doily like papers to bundle them in, and marveled at the long necklaces and many bracelets she was wearing, and the beautiful patterned scarf she had her hair wrapped up in, her heavy beaded earrings peeking out from under its folds. She could remember her grandmother wearing something similar, but she tied it slightly differently. Gwen was about to ask if she was Victoria, when the woman spotted her and her eyes lit up with a bright smile. “Gwen!” she exclaimed and scurried over to her, the long fabrics of her clothes rustling with her steps as she took her by the hands.  
  
Gwen was too stunned to pull away, as Victoria chattered excitedly in her personal space. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you in person! Look how beautiful you are! Just a vision of violet, aren’t you? Did you have a good flight? Would you like a cup of coffee?”  
  
Gwen blinked rapidly as she processed all of the energy and her brain was struggling to reciprocate it. “Uh...coffee...sounds good.”  
  
“You just have a seat over there,” Max’s foster mom ushered her over to a cluster of chairs around a coffee table near a window, full of pamphlets and whatnot for customers and Gwen was actually grateful to sit down and have a breather. She stashed her suitcase under the table and waited until Victoria came back with a cup of coffee, some tea cookies and a delicious looking sandwich. It looked like corned beef on rye, and she could smell a little mustard on it, too. Just the thing. “Holy shit, thank you...You’re so nice. That must drive Max crazy.”  
  
Victoria laughed softly as she sat down with her own coffee and winked, “We have a rapport, don’t worry. He’s my little helper around the shop, and I pay him in cookies and T.V.”  
  
Gwen smiled at the thought of Max tending flowers as she sipped her coffee and found it was _ amazing. _ “What roast is this?” she asked.  
  
“Oh, I don’t know, my daddy sends me all kinds. I’m sure it’s from Africa this time around. But my secret is a touch of cinnamon.”  
  
“I’m gonna have to remember that.”  
  
“Max likes it, too. But I give him decaf.” Victoria held a finger up to her lips with a mischievous smile. “He doesn’t know that, though.”  
  
Through all the shit that had been happening lately, it comforted Gwen a little to see Max really was with good people who could handle his _ intense _ personality. “Where is he?”  
  
Victoria pursed her lips and glanced at the door towards the back. “My office. He’s curled up in front of the television. He doesn’t feel very social since the incident...Poor thing was scared half to death, and I don’t think he’s quite come out of it. And neither of us can comfort him like Davey can, that man just has the magic touch, you know?”  
  
“He’s his dad. Of course he’s the best at making him feel better.” Gwen said it so confidently, she surprised herself but it just felt right. David was the one who doted on Max and loved him unconditionally, the one that went through the process of being able to give him a good home and struggled through the hard times. If anyone was meant to be Max’s forever home, it was David. “Hasn’t he seen him since what happened?”  
  
“Max won’t visit him in the hospital, and David only just got cleared to leave tomorrow afternoon and even then, he has to go stay with Adaire for a bit. Truthfully, I think Max may be a tad upset with him. It’s all a lot of different emotions right now.”

_ Ouch. I bet Dave _ ** _loves _ ** _ being babysat by that old bastard. If he doesn’t follow the doctor’s orders to the letter, I’m gonna give him another concussion. _ _  
_ _  
_ “Does he know?” Gwen dared to ask and glanced around before dropping her voice to a whisper, just in case Max was eavesdropping. “About his mom?”  
  
Victoria solemnly lowered her mug and shook her head no. “David wants to be the one to tell him.”  
  
“Makes sense. Is Max eating?”  
  
“He nibbles. But he skipped breakfast today.” She could tell by the way Victoria looked over her shoulder again in the direction her foster son supposedly was, she was worried.

Gwen pulled out her phone and quickly brought up the website for their favorite diner, remembering the name of the place easily. “What’s the street address here again?”  
  
Within forty five minutes, she had a hot pizza packed with pepperoni, sausage, bell peppers and extra cheese. She balanced it on one hand and finally braved the walk to the door as Victoria hung back to let her try to coax Max out of his melancholy. Gwen took a deep breath and tapped on the door. “Pizza delivery,” she called as cheerily as possible.  
  
She waited in apprehension until the knob twisted and it opened just a crack and she saw half of a face, a poof of jet black hair and one very sad green eye looking up at her in disbelief. “Shit,” he said hoarsely and opened it a little wider, and Gwen noticed he didn’t look any more rested than she did. “What the fuck are you doing here?”  
  
“I’m taking you to your therapy appointment, duh. But pizza first. Come on, dude, don’t make me eat it all by myself. You know I’ll try if no one is there to stop me.”  
  
Max just let the door drift open slowly now that he wasn’t holding it, as he returned to his set up on the small couch in front of the little T.V. It was piled with blankets and Mr. Honeynuts, and Gwen set the pizza down on Victoria’s cluttered desk to watch him crawl back into his nest and settle down with an unfocused expression.  
  
She’d never seen him this bad. Where was the little spitfire she loved that kept her and everyone else in a mile radius on their toes?  
  
Gwen shut the door and fixed him a few slices on a paper plate before she squeezed into the spot left by his feet at the end of the cramped piece of furniture. “Gotta eat something, Max.”  
  
“I don’t feel hungry,” he mumbled, shrugging the blanket around his shoulders and turning to lean against the back of the couch, hiding his face from her. “I’m not going. Not even you can make me.”  
  
“I could, actually. But I won’t. Therapy is one of those things that loses its effectiveness if you don’t choose to do it.” That was a hard lesson for her mother to learn, but it was true. If Max did do it on his own terms, it would probably just serve to make him more opposed to treatment. He’d only associate with more stress. Gwen watched him squeezed his teddy bear especially tight and his eyes started to sparkle, warning her tears were on the way. _ Aw, shit. I can’t handle it when this kid cries, fucking makes me cry _ .  
  
Gwen didn’t have a problem being affectionate with Max, or kids in general, it was just that she never really knew _ when _ to be. It was a delicate balance between knowing when to let him reach out to her or when he needed her to make the first step or more often than not, do nothing. It seemed option number three was ideal, since when she reached out to him, he _ flinched _ away from her.  
  
He didn’t hit. He didn’t glare. He flinched like the contact had hurt him, like he was scared.  
  
_ He’s fucking right to be. _ Gwen rubbed her aching eyes and let out a long, silent breath. “Sorry,” she heard Max whisper in the smallest voice that didn’t even _ sound _ like him, and she felt even shittier. The last thing she ever wanted was for him to feel an ounce of responsibility for all of this. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Max. Look, if you really, _ really _ don’t want to go, I won’t make you. I’ll take you to the movies or something instead, and we can bullshit your foster moms or I’ll talk to them for you. But can you tell me why you don’t want to go first?”  
  
Max stared down for a long time until he finally sniffled and wiped his watering eyes, as he breathed as slowly as he could. “I feel like--” he said, his voice breaking already and he winced. “I feel like I’m trying so hard to make all this shit better and it’s not changing anything. It doesn’t matter that I _ want _ to try. David is always telling me what a great kid I am, _ the fucking idio _t, he even tells other people! He’s actually proud of me.”

  
He was shaking all over now and Gwen could hear him wheezing a bit in his short, troubled half-sobs. _ Aw, shit. That’s not the asthma I hope. _“Doesn’t sound like you’re pissed at him. Why don’t you visit David?” she asked gently.

  
Max fiddled with his paracord bracelet, chin wobbling as he nodded. “He protected me,” he whispered, and now tears were freely coursing down his face. “And I just sat in a hole and I cried while someone sent by _ my father _ tried to kill him. I can’t-- I can’t go see him after that, Gwen. Because I know he’s just going to be glad I’m fucking alive and hug me and tell me everything is going to be okay, when I don’t deserve it. He’s going to get killed because of me. I’m fucking poison. Everything I touch rots.”  
  
_ Killed because of me. _

Gwen looked straight up and bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. Those words almost did her in. There was no avoiding telling him, but he had to know at some point and the longer they waited, the worse it would be. Still, Gwen just couldn’t stomach telling Max that someone actually was dead and it was because of his father, but not because of him. She knew right then that nothing she said would stop Max from blaming himself. “Okay. I get it. I know what it feels like to be a fuck-up and to drag everyone down around you. It’s the fucking worst. But if you want to actually make a good change, you have to start somewhere. Do you know where that is?”  
  
Max looked up at her, confused, irritated, yet hopeful. “Yeah…?”  
  
“You have to follow through on the promises you make.”  
  
He opened his mouth but only a sound of protest, or more so defeat came out and he closed it and looked away from her. “Shit. God dammit! You’re fucking-- I hate you.”  
  
With that, he kicked off the blankets and began putting his shoes on, grumbling the entire time as he tied the laces sloppily and then carefully put Mr. Honeynuts into his backpack.  
  
It was the crankiest yet the quietest he had ever been on a drive, and Gwen did get a little lost on the way to the appointment, but in the end they made it with five minutes to spare. As they ascended the stairs into the office complex, Max suddenly grabbed her sleeve to get her attention and she looked down at him. “Yep?”  
  
“You...are you...am I gonna be alone?” he asked awkwardly, looking up at her every few seconds, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to make eye contact or not. “David was supposed to be there with me.”  
  
_ He’s gotta be kicking himself for missing it. _ “If the doctor lets me stay, I will.” she said, impressed at how gentle her voice sounded. “But if she doesn’t, it’s okay. It’s not a trap, Max.”  
  
She could tell her didn’t believe her but he silently just took her hand and hugged her arm with his other, full on clinging to her as they walked into the waiting room. At the moment, she couldn’t believe he was the same camper she met in the middle of last June. He seemed so tiny and frightened, and while it did make sense, Gwen missed her fierce little hell raiser so much it made her heart ache.

  
After a few minutes, they were called into the office.

* * *

  
Max hated to admit it, but therapy wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He wanted to accuse the therapist of talking down to him, of only thinking she understood what was going on because she read it in an outdated textbook but she actually seemed very down to earth. Instead, she let him run the session on his own terms. He asked questions, and she answered.  
  
By the end, he actually understood what was going on with him. He doubted it was as simplistic as it sounded but it still gave him a little bit of comfort to feel like he wasn’t in the dark anymore. It helped to be able to step back and look at it all clinically instead of getting caught up in his own head.  
  
_ “When we’re kids, we learn communication from our parents and the other adults we spend time around. When our parents don’t help us develop those skills, by either showing us bad examples or neglecting to put the time in, it can hurt our ability to connect with others when we’re older. But the good thing is that those skills can be learned at any time. What we’re going to work on first is helping you communicate better, Max, starting with the people close to you. I’m told that you have an affinity for writing things down, so we can start there.” _  
  
Over all, it wasn’t nearly as heavy of an experience as he dreaded it to be and she called it short (she seemed to pick up on him getting burnt out) and sent him home with worksheets. _ Fucking worksheets! _ That she wanted him to fill out by the next time. _  
_ _  
_ Gwen had gone to her hotel to rightfully pass out, and Max was lugged back to their own, since their house was still a crime scene. Obviously, it also wasn’t _ safe _ but nobody would say that out loud to him. Max sat on his bed and glared down at the sheet, reading over the questions that only made him feel more frustrated.  
  
_ Who is in your family? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ What do you think makes someone family? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ What are three things someone you like taught you that you appreciate knowing now? _

_ Do you talk to anyone when you feel worried about something? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ How do you feel physically when you’re worried? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ What’s something you’re worrying about right now? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ What’s your bedtime routine? _ _  
_ _  
  
_

Max stared and stared at the blank spaces, but he had no idea how to start. He thought about texting Neil and Nikki. He thought about calling David, but then he remembered after getting his head bashed in by a hired thug, David wasn’t allowed screen time and was sentenced to mostly bed rest.  
  
**You’re poison.  
  
You come from monsters. You can’t be anything else but a monster too.  
  
You hurt everyone around you. Even when you’re trying not to.  
  
You aren’t good for anything else.** _  
_ _  
_  
“Stop it,” he growled to himself, but it didn’t make a difference. He wallowed in his toxic thoughts until he just couldn’t take it anymore and kicked the heavy comforter off that smelled like hotel laundry detergent, and not a bed of his own. Max grabbed the sheet and gripped it tightly, closing his eyes and breathing deep breaths through clenched teeth. _ I am not letting him get to me. I am not afraid of him anymore. I’m not afraid. _ ** _I’m not afraid._ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _  
_ ** _ I’m filling out this fucking sheet like a model fucking patient! _ _  
_ _  
_ Max pulled open the door that was joined to his foster mother’s room and peeked through. He didn’t see Victoria in the dim, but he did see the shape of Aster passed out on the couch and the coffee table was scattered with files, papers and photographs from cases she was working on. Max tiptoed his way over, and contemplated putting a blanket over her but he knew that would just wake her up. _ Like a fucking wolf. _  
  
He set the sheet down on the corner of the coffee table and fidgeted his hands, eyes darting between her and the files.  
  
The curiosity was killing him.  
  
Max started to look over them, skimming the information on the fronts and then peeking at the first pages.  
  
_ What the shit? _ He thought, gingerly looking through them without putting them out of order. Aster seemed like the type to know if something was half an inch from where she last saw it. But Max was a master of mischief, and he had a knack for covering his tracks. He only left them if he left a calling card, too. _ These are all missing kids. _ _  
_ _  
_The dates went back as far to the nineties, kids from a little younger to him to teenagers. Max was appalled at the amount, from all over Oregon but primarily nearby Sleepy Peak and that detail was not lost on him. All of them were labeled cold cases. Max opened up another folder and picked it up this time, thumbing through the evidence notices until he found the actual missing poster.

  
  
**MISSING MINOR** **  
** **Age: 12**

**Name: Daniel Shiloh Beck** **  
** **Hair: Blonde** **  
** **Eyes: Blue** **  
** **Skin: Fair** **  
** **Height: 5’8** **  
** **Weight: Approximately 110 pounds** **  
** **  
** **Daniel, who goes by Danny, was last seen riding his bike near Red-tail Park. Danny’s family says that he likes comic books, Star-trek and music. Danny was reported missing by his brother and guardian, Simon Beck. If anyone has any news on his whereabouts, please contact your nearest authorities. **

**  
** **  
** And there was a picture included.  
  
Max had seen a few photos of David as a child around Aster’s office, and if he just pictured them with a new color scheme, it was a dead ringer for the missing twelve year old he was looking at. But it was so utterly bizarre that Max almost convinced himself it couldn’t be. He looked so _ normal _ , with a goofy smile and wearing a clunky red sweatshirt with the _ U.S.S Enterprise _ streaking across the front and sitting perfectly for a school picture.  
  
But it was him. _ It’s the kool-aid killer. _  
  
He flinched as Aster shifted behind him and without even thinking about it, he whipped out his phone and started taking pictures. Max hurriedly rearranged the stack just so and ran on silent feet back to his room before Aster woke up and caught him.


	2. Chapter 2

Gwen normally would walk to get anywhere in Sleepy Peak, but it turned out that David’s grandfather liked to be separate from society. When he told her that he lived at the edge of town, Gwen expected to be able to  _ see the town  _ from the place. But as her uber rolled down the forest road, she realized that the old coot pretty much lived in the forest. The town was a ten minute drive away and the cabin driveway a five minute walk from the main road, but it felt like it was in its own world of trees and bird calls.   
  
She bailed out of the car and nervously adjusted her hair around her face. After an impulsively bought bottle of red wine and a night of obsessive googling at her hotel, she slept through the night with feverish stress dreams. But she slept nonetheless, and she felt steady on her feet for the first time in days. She felt ready to tackle the obstacles to come.   
  
First order of business, see David and  _ talk.  _ _   
_ _   
_ Second, get a few steps ahead of Sunil and whoever else he has with him.   
  
Third, best birthday ever for Max.   
  
Gwen thumped up the solid wooden steps onto the porch and knocked soundly on the door, noticing there was no doorbell or knocker. It was a pretty old fashioned place. There was a long pause with no answer, so she knocked two more times but on the third her hand darted through open air as the door swung open and a stockily built, angry bearded seventy year old was yelling at her. Unfortunately, she didn’t understand Pissed Scot.   
  
_ “--who are ye and whaddye want?!” _ he finished, grumpily thumping a cane on the ground. Gwen blinked rapidly, her patience plummeting through the ground as she processed all of that. First of all, he had the lumber-jack in the woods look she expected. Flannels, work pants, boots. But he was also wearing an apron covered in flour and a few dough and butter smears.    
  
“I’m Gwen. I’m a friend of David’s.” she said flatly. “Is he decent or what? We have shit to do.”   
  
“Ah." He was much quieter, as he looked her up and down suspiciously. "I see. Let me check,” he was marginally calmer as he leaned away from the door to shout up the stairs, “DAVEY! THERE’S A GIRL HERE FOR YA!”   
  
She snorted.  _ This guy is better than cable. _ _   
_ _   
_ Gwen waited patiently for the sound of someone descending the stairs and then there he was. Red hair sticking straight up, his adorable freckles and soft hazel-green eyes, speaking in a patient yet drowsy voice. “You don’t need to yell, Granda, and that’s not very…” he trailed off as he looked over the old man’s shoulder and saw her. It was like a gold retriever throwing himself out the front door, how fast he scrambled past Adaire with a big goofy grin on his face and did his best to pick her up in a hug with only one functioning arm.    
  
She didn’t know why she didn’t expect that. But it was just what she needed, and she helped him out by squeezing his shoulders tight so he didn’t struggle to lift her up and turn her around. “Oh, there’s the timer,” Adaire said with a chuckle and she heard his heavy footsteps and cane clunking away to give them a moment on the porch as David set her back down on her feet. But Gwen didn’t let him go. She rested her head against his chest and snuggled into the warmth, and a little voice said in time to her heart beat,  _ It’s all okay now. _ _   
_ _   
_ “Are you alright?” he asked, leaning back to look down at her and Gwen scoffed and pushed him away gently. “You’re asking  _ me? _ You just got out of an MRI.”   
  
“And they said I’m a-okay!” he said, trying to give her a smile and two thumbs up but winced and cradled his casted wrist when he tried,  _ ”owie.” _ _   
_ _   
_ Gwen planed her hands on her hips and frowned at him, as he sheepishly lowered his arm and gestured with his thumb on his good hand over his shoulder. “You should come inside, it’s pretty cold and Granda’s making rowies.”   
  
“What the fuck are rowies?” she asked, gladly following him inside the warm building.    
  
“They’re like Scottish croissants.” he explained, swinging around a banister in a childish manner before he started up the stairs and she followed him. It was nice to see the pictures on the walls and the space David had grown up in. It was rightfully rustic, woodsy and cozy. She had yet to see the house he had fixed up, aside from some pictures, but she knew she would get the chance when Max’s birthday rolled around. She followed David into his room, where he plunked down on the bed with a huff, which was the only real furniture in the room aside from a desk that had a bunch of clothes, his laptop and currently charging phone on it. It looked like he had grabbed the bare essentials for his brief stay. “So you really can’t be left alone, huh?”   
  
“Just for the next two days.” he reassured her, and she sat down next to him, their shoulders touching. For a moment, it didn’t feel any different from the counselor cabin. “You really got whacked that hard?” she asked quietly, glancing over his head.    
  
“Doctor said I was lucky it didn’t fracture.” He smiled, but she could see it was strained. “I’m pretty durable, though. You know that.”   
  
“Are you in pain?”   
  
“Nothing terrible. They gave me medication, but I don’t really care for it. Makes me sleepy.”   
  
“This is the slowest I’ve ever heard you talk,” she joked. “You almost sound like a normal person.”   
  
“Boooo, you’re mean. Sign my cast, meanie, and tell me what’s going on.”   
  
They tracked down a sharpie and sat cross legged on the bed while she doodled on his cast and he sat patiently still. It helped to have a menial task while she went over her own experience of the last few months, right down to the worst details. She wasn’t afraid of David judging her, but she could see how wide and horrified his eyes got when she brought up Rishima’s brief pregnancy and she knew none of the details were lost on him. And when she described the last time she saw her, Gwen’s guts twisted and she capped the pen with a shaky huff, feeling the familiar tears. “They said she wasn't killed in the apartment. That’s one of the few things the police _do_ actually know. So if I had stayed with her--”   
  
“Don’t,” he said softly, taking her hand with his good one and rubbing his thumb over the backs of his fingers. “Gwen, you did everything humanly possible to help that poor girl. And because of you, she got a chance to be happy and have a friend again.”   
  
“Is that all she is now? A poor girl, for the rest of time?” Gwen asked, wiping away a bitter tear.  _ God, I am so damn sick of crying.  _ “A man steals her from her home, beats her, rapes her and forces her to have his children. And then he  _ murders  _ her, and suddenly she was never Rishima, she was never an archaeology student and she never liked green cardigans and black cats. She’s just a poor girl. A poor **dead** girl.”   
  
She was so _angry_. She trembled with it, an roiling fire that was eating away at her insides and hollowing her out, begging to be released in a scream, in a tantrum, in  _ revenge.  _ Because that was what Sunil reduced her to, and Gwen felt in her soul that Rishima could not be the only one. Max couldn’t be the only one. _ It’s all organized. It’s bigger than the three of them. I know it _ .    
  
She felt David’s warm fingers squeeze her own and it calmed her just enough to keep her from completely losing her mind over the fact that there was no end in sight. No justice she could see for the people who were being hurt. “What do you think?” he asked her gently.   
  
Gwen looked up at him, and he was just staring at her with plaintive, expectant eyes. Listening, like he always did so well. At least I was right about one thing, she thought. Being with her best friend, her teammates, her counselor buddy for life was helping her get through this. “I think that Sunil has a lot of power. The kind of power where he can have people’s homes broken into or lives taken by professionals. I think that he has a plan,” she blinked and saw her vandalized apartment door behind her eyelids for a moment, but she powered through it. “And for some reason, he needs a child. I think that there are answers inside that creepy church he runs, and if he doesn’t die soon and everything he’s built isn’t burned to the ground, Max is never going to be safe.”   
  
She waited for him to process that and she could see him reeling, but she knew David. He would make his way back to her in a second.    
  
And once he had done that, he let go of her hand to lay back against the pillows with a miserable groan and covered his face. “I think you’re right. And I think maybe Aster knows more than she’s telling us but I feel bad for doubting her because she’s family and I _do_ trust her, Gwen, she-- she’s like…”    
  
She knew he wanted to say a second mom to him, but he never would. “David, after all the shit we went through over the summer together...when it comes down to it,  _ we  _ are responsible for Max.” she gestured between the two of them. “And that kid can’t go on not knowing what’s happening. It’s not helping him. We have to let him in, and he can handle it.”   
  
“No, I don’t think he can.”   
  
“...we talking about the same kid?”   
  
“I actually have some things to catch you up on, too.”   
  
And he did catch her up. After a brief outburst of  _ what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!  _ when he got his laptop because he was supposed to stay away from screens for a whole week, but he handed it off to her and guided her through to a file on the desktop. Double password protected, which was smart, considering Max could get into the thing if he was tenacious.   
  
During his explanation, Adaire was actually pleasant enough to bring them some of the fresh baked treats and Gwen actually thought they were pretty good, especially with the honey and marmalade to dip them in. She didn’t even realize how hungry she was, after a breakfast of just coffee.   
  
He showed her the brain scans, results, everything from the evaluations Max had been put through recently. Gwen had seriously forgotten about all of that during the chaos, and she felt guilty for it. But by the end, she was almost starting to believe David’s point of view. What she did know on the subject was enough for her to understand how truly serious the effects of Max’s upbringing were, and she had expected them. But that didn’t make it easier when her expectations were met.    
  
Panic attacks. Night terrors. Full blown flashbacks, auditory and visual hallucinations, disturbed sleep and more. The symptom list seemed to go on forever. Gwen finished reading the doctor’s treatment recommendations when David finally spoke up, “Gwen, he’s already overwhelmed trying to adjust. And then half of his fears were just proven true. What can we even say? That his father can and will do this again? That-- that he’s going to try to _take him_ _away?_ That his mother is gone and his father probably did it? Max has suffered enough. The whole point of Halloween was that he got a chance to enjoy being a kid!”   
  
Gwen heard the crack in his voice and saw the pain in his eyes. She didn’t interrupt. With David, things only came out when they built until they could build no more. She watched him grip the front of his shirt with his hand, and stared straight up at the ceiling, obviously trying to keep it together. “He loved his costume, he actually helped put it together. And he was  __ so excited to go out and he listened to the rules and we had fun but then it was all ruined. And I feel like it’s my fault because we knew something wasn’t right and I didn’t have to take him out of the house, I could have done something else that was safer, like watch movies or answer trick-or-treaters. Anything else besides walking around with him alone at night! It was like-- like my first real parenting test and I  **failed ** it.”

David normally would have been crying his eyes out by then, but he surprised Gwen by not.  _ He’s toughened up _ , she realized.  _ For Max _ . Because dads were foundations, or at least the decent ones were.    
  
She leaned over and rested her head on his chest, and hugged him tight, getting comfortable against his side. “So we both feel like shit about what’s happened. That’s fine. But we aren’t letting it stop us from getting back on top. Sunil doesn’t know who he’s fucking with, but he’s going to find out.”   
  
“Language,” David murmured but she could hear a little mirth in his tone.    
  
“I’m serious! And this isn’t going to stop us from giving Max an amazing birthday, we’re going all out, I figured out what kind of cake he’ll want and I have it on good authority that the local zoo is may have a new addition to the Ursi-- Ursa...Ursh…”   
  
“Ursidae?”   
  
“Yeah, that, sanctuary.”   
  
“He’s going to lose it if he gets to see a baby bear,” Gwen looked up at David as he spoke and she saw he was smiling a little, a real one. But it was short lived. “We still have to tell him, though. About his mother. It’s just going to be worse the longer we wait.”   
  
“You’re right.” she sighed and laid her head back down. “We can tell him together.”   
  
“He won’t see me.”   
  
“I’ll tell him, then.”   
  
He tightened his arm around her and they settled in for a much needed nap before they had to face what was to come.

* * *

  
Since Max moved in with his foster moms, he had relatively free access to television, a computer and his phone. While Victoria did limit his time on the Playstation and watching the T.V, he still got a full hour and a half with them, and they let him alone on the laptop which was apparently a hand-me-down from their last foster daughter.    
  
But this was a record for vegging out in front of the screen.    
  
Max had gone crazy, researching nonstop, googling constantly and delving through old Sleepy Peak news articles and reports, which lead him to more data around the area and it just kept circling around. He had found a pattern. Ever since 1983, the amount of missing people had spiked nearby the area. After 1985, missing people became exclusively children but children had always been the primary victims and Max was dead certain that a bunch of creeps chanting in Latin and mixing kool-aid while wearing white were responsible.   
  
But that meant Daniel was one of the missing kids, and he wasn’t part of a cult before then. And if he wasn’t the only kid, did that mean there were others besides him?    
  
It took a couple of tries to get the spelling right, but he finally got a hit on  _ Xemug. _ _   
_ _   
_ He expected some kind of pathway to the darkweb or some cheery thinly veiled church invite to lure victims to their doom. He did not get either or anything of the like.   
  
He found an Ebay link, and after clicking it, he found a collection of comic books for sale titled energetically as,   
  
** _Xemug’s Chosen: Saviors of the Galaxy!_ ** ** _   
_ ** ** _   
_ ** Max leaned back in his chair to check that Aster wasn’t paying attention before he turned back to his computer and looked up the nearby library. Lo and behold, the comics were in stock.  __ So these places actually still have purpose in society. Good for them.

It was a fifteen minute walk tops. If he took some shortcuts and made the trip quick, he could be back before dark.   
  
He contemplated asking Aster if he could go, but he knew the answer. Not alone, or not at all were the only two options. And he contemplated lying to her to make it seem like he was somewhere in the hotel, but she always saw through his fibs. It was something he simultaneously respected and hated.    
  
_ This can’t possibly go wrong,  _ he thought as he slipped on his shoes and coat. He shrugged on his backpack, tugged on his hat and scarf, double checked he had his inhaler and waited until Aster got up from her endless paperwork to get another cup of coffee, and Max stole his chance. He scurried across the hotel room, stopped to give Winifred a kiss on her forehead as she napped on the floor in her cone of shame and hopped up on doggy pain meds while her stitches healed, and then slipped out the door.   
  
He booked it down the stairwell to the next floor, where he took the elevator without worrying that Aster would catch him waiting for it and then marched out of the lobby in a cluster of people and was free. He looked up at the window of their room victoriously, before he remembered she had the real life equivalent of Red Dead Redemption dead eye and didn’t stick around after that.   
  
It was colder than expected, but Max kept his pace as brisk as he comfortably could and made it to the library only needing to puff his inhaler once to get by.  _ I got this.  _ _   
_ _   
_ The librarian was actually very sweet, despite the fact that she had to stay past close to help him get a library card to check out the comics and he dared to ask her about a few other things. She was the tiniest, most shriveled yet adorable old lady with the biggest glasses he had ever met. But she was no less energetic about reading and honestly, it felt liberating to be up to a little rebellion but to also speak to someone who wasn’t his protective guardians. She helped him find two books of piano sheet music with C.D’s to go with them (making him sad for his broken stereo but she assured him they would work on his laptop) and a copy of the classic,  _ The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood _ .    
  
She walked him out with a backpack full of material and asked him nicely, “Do you need me to call someone to pick you up, sweetie? The street lights are on.”   
  
“No thank you, ma’am.”  _ Fuck. Is that what I sound like now?  _ He didn’t mean to actually retain Aster’s stupid oh-so-British manners, combined with her military expectations of discipline. “My house is really close.”   
  
“Alrighty! See you in two weeks. Hope you like your books!”   
  
Max started walking the way he came, but it was even colder and he was shivering and his toes were chilled.He decided to distract himself and swung his backpack around to his chest and unzipped it, then took a comic out.  _ May as well see what I got _ . ** _   
_ ** ** _   
_ ** He thumbed through it bit by bit, skimming the colorful graphics and dialogue, grasping the general idea. Alien comes to earth, meets a lost kid who doesn’t want to go home. The alien asks the kid if he’s safe; when the kid answers no, he offers to take him somewhere to teach him how he can keep himself and others safe. Because it’s a PG-13 comic, it’s only alluded to but Max got the idea. The protagonist was from a bad home, like him, like… _ Maybe like Daniel? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Fuck that, I’m not sympathetic to that fruitloop _ .   
  
He sped through the next two, slowly putting it together. Not a mention of ascension, but he got the theme. Some mystical alien traveler named Xemug saved kids from different planets, from starvation, from war and otherwise. And he helped them find out who they are and granted them super powers, encouraging them to work as a family and team, training them as superheroes. It was stupid and cheesy.    
  
It made Max feel sad more than anything else that it was something so normal and he actually liked it. He began to cross a street but picked his head up when his vision began to flash blue and red and a  _ whoop! whoop!  _ siren blared from around the corner. He backed off onto the sidewalk again to let them pass, but instead, they sped up to the curb, stopped and then the driver door swung open.    
  
_ Fuck. I’m dead meat.  _   
  
He tried to backpedal, but he was frozen. “ _ Max Purohit! _ ” Aster growled in the scariest voice he had ever heard from her. She was almost shouting as she stormed up to him. “Do you have ANY idea what  _ TIME IT IS?!” _ _   
_   
“A-Aster?” he stammered, but didn’t get to finish.   
  
“I texted you, I called you, Vicky and I have been looking all over, we almost called David! Scared Vicky half to death--  _ get in the car, Max! _ ”   
  
“Hey!” he finally recovered. “You don’t get to tell me what to--”   
  
Then she got right in his face, teeth bared like the wolf of a woman she was and she spoke soft and low. “Get. In. The. Car.”   
  
Max got into the car.   
  
He was made to sit in the back like a criminal. Max shook his inhaler as quietly as he could and puffed it once, unsure if it was the leftover effects of the cold or his anxiety. As they stopped at a light, Aster finally spoke up. “Nothing to say for yourself?”   
  
“Oh, am I allowed to speak?” he spat on instinct.    
  
“Not with that bloody tone. Max, what were you thinking? It’s in the thirties and it’s dark out. I don’t tell you to do things and follow the rules I set because I feel like it, I do it for your own good because I care about you, you little twit! What if something had happened to you? You know that it’s dangerous for you to be alone outside of the hotel!”   
  
“I don’t fucking care! Shut up! You know, if something did happen to me, maybe it’d be a goddamn good thing! Then you wouldn’t have to deal with how shitty I am and nobody else would get hurt!”    
  
The car slowed to a stop in the hotel parking lot and Max realized what he had said out loud, and how utterly condemning that sounded to an adult’s ears. He felt his face heat up with embarrassment, but his back chilled with his anxiety as he shifted his seat belt but it didn’t help. Aster turned in her seat to look at him and Max made a point of crossing his arms and looking straight down at his feet.  __ Eye contact is for the weak . “Do you really believe that?” she asked in a low voice. 

Max unfolded his arms only to start picking at his fingers. No matter what she tried, he wasn’t going to answer her honestly. He stubbornly kept his mouth shut.    


Finally, she gave in and turned off the car. “Go on, get your scrawny arse indoors.”   
  
Max stayed up late reading all the comics in one go, until his head and eyes ached and begged for sleep, so he finally set them aside and laid down. He still hated the hotel bed smell, and the stupid app on his phone wasn’t the same as his sound machine. Winnie had managed to drag herself onto the bed to sleep with him, but she was out of it to really cuddle and the cone wouldn’t let it happen anyway. Still, the sound of her doggy snores helped.   
  
He woke up with a cough as something landed on his chest and looked around wildly to see his foster mother, the short and weird one, standing over him. “Up.” she ordered, and yanked the blanket off of him. Max struggled to get his bearings as he looked at the pack that she had thrown on him.  _ What is this shit?  _ “What time is it?”   
  
“Dawn.” she replied shortly, yanking open the dresser drawers and getting out his clothes for him, which she didn’t normally do. He scowled as she produced the same long john thermal pajamas David made him wear under his costume. “If you think bootcamping this place is gonna--”   
  
“You wanted to go outside, we’re going outside, now put your layers on.”    
  
She bundled up his clothes and dumped them on him ungracefully and Max hissed and hurled the objects off, rucksack included. He waited for her to leave, before he began to look through the pack and it struck a bittersweet chord. Canteen, binoculars, magnesium lighter; it was camping supplies. But there was no field guide or anything, it looked like bare essentials.   
  
At least, until he found a wicked looking hunting knife that he was almost afraid to pick up. “Holy fuck.”   
  
Max changed into the clothes and he felt kind of heavy with the layers she had picked out, but it was getting frigid outside and it surprised him that it wasn’t snowing yet, considering it was Oregon.  _ Thanks a lot, Big Oil Companies. And every other one percent asshole.  _ He crammed his hat down over his hair and finished getting his hiking boots on, and finally met her outside of the room, where she was finishing her own pack. He noticed she was wrapping up their bows and quivers, too. “Uh-- is there breakfast?”   
  
“Doughnuts and coffee. Help yourself.”   
  
He did, and followed her around with one in each hand, observing her preparations as she examined a map of the nearby reserves and muttering to herself as she followed hand drawn trails. Finally, she seemed satisfied and marked the end of one before she placed the folded map into her own rucksack and got to her feet. “C’mon, merry man.”    
  
“You can’t be serious. Camping? In November? We’ll fucking freeze to death!”   
  
“If you’re stupid, yes. Are you stupid, Max?”   
  
He gritted his teeth, feeling like smoke was about to come out his nostrils but he followed her down to the car and piled in.    
  
It was an hour long drive with his headphones crammed in as he caught another forty minutes of unsettled sleep before he heard the door slam and his own open. He glared up at Aster, who waited patiently for him to step out. She locked up the car, hefted her pack onto her shoulders and started off into the forest reserve sprawled ahead of them. Max stopped at the edge of the forest and growled, “Lady, you’re off-trail.”   
  
“I don’t need it.”   
  
“I got lost in the woods once, I’m not doing it again.”   
  
“No.” She said, and the knowing tone in her voice made him shiver, as she paused to look over her shoulder at him. “You’re not.”   
  
And she continued on without him, until she was almost out of sight and Max realized he had to catch up. So he set off into the trees after her and whatever cryptic lesson she was trying to teach him now.   



	3. Chapter 3

“You didn’t bring any food?” Max demanded Aster, as she helped him down a steep slope through the trees and she chuckled at his expense. “We’re in the forest. I see dinner left and right.” and she gestured around to empty, dark brown trunks and endless rotting autumn leaves as far as Max could see. He didn’t even see any animals! And it was the tail end of fall, leading into winter. Harvest time was done.    
  
Max hated this with a passion.    
  
He hated the cold, he hated the lack of cell reception, he hated that even now when it was genuinely dangerous to be out there that he still couldn’t get away from  _ fucking camping! _ If David got hauled out in forty degree weather by this bitch, how did he end up loving it so much?

“Oh, by all means, keep making all that noise if you actually  _ want  _ to starve.”   
  
“I wasn’t talking!” Max spat, yet he briefly wondered if she could read his mind.  _ Witch.  _   
  
“But you’re stepping on every twig and kicking every rock, and huffing and puffing. Lord, we have a long way to go.”   
  
_ You’re going to regret giving me a knife, lady _ .   
  
But Max did look down at his feet and realized that she did have a point. Now that he listened to his steps and how they carried through the air around him, he became aware of how loud he was really being.  _ It doesn’t matter,  _ he thought. _ Or does it? _

They must have trekked for hours and every time he tried to talk, she hushed him with a gesture, which only served to make him angrier. “When are we going to stop?” he hissed quietly.   
  
“When you can move as quiet as I can. Watch me, and figure it out.”   
  
_ That’s it! _ Max unclipped his backpack strap over his chest and began digging through it for some kind of way to let out his rage. When he finally produced his binoculars which felt heavy enough to hurl at her head, Max looked up and deflated. There was a sudden lack of a target.  _ She was just here! Where the fuck did she go?  _ _   
_   
Max turned in several circles, trying to spot her nearby. She couldn’t have gotten far, and how did he not hear her walking away?! “Okay, Ass, you can stop fucking showing off. Come out.” he called.   
  
No reply.   
  
Max wasn’t dumb enough to try to walk off and make his own way back, or try to find her. He had learned that lesson well enough, and has a new scar in addition to others to show for it, although David promised it would fade eventually. Or rather, he reiterated Doctor Herrera.   
  
He didn’t ask about the others. He didn’t want to know, and they were just superficial marks on his skin, they didn’t _matter_. That was what he kept telling himself all the time.   
_   
_ _ Did she bring me out here to ditch me? _ He thought, his heart making a small jump.  _ Makes sense. I pissed her off, finally. I got her house broken into. Her godson beaten half to death. Her wife threatened. I’m always a general bane to her fucking existence...I can’t think of a reason she has to keep me _ .   
  
Max jerked out of his thoughts as he felt something tickle his head near his ear, and he spun around to a grinning Aster, who had been slowly lifting up a lock of his hair until he noticed. “Hi,” she declared and Max snarled and lashed out, punching her in the abdomen but she stepped back with a laugh, so it didn’t make much impact. “You--!  _ YOU--!” _ he seethed, throwing more hits at her that she swatted or absorbed with ease. “Why would you do that?!”   
  
“To make you want to learn to do it.” she said, planting a hand on his head and holding him at arms length to keep him from reaching her. He grabbed at her wrist and furiously throw it off but kept his distance. Max clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, trying not to let his temper fuel his decision making. Trying to remember sound advice from David, that was repeated in different vocabulary by his therapist not long ago. It was like trying to turn his head around backwards. He spoke through gritted teeth, “Show me?” It was his best shot at asking nicely.   
  
So she did.    
  
They moved side by side for two, maybe three hours, Max couldn’t tell, as she drilled him on the method. She taught him to look for bare dirt or mud and live grass or fresh leaves to step on, because they didn’t have anything brittle to give him away. A great thing about the pacific northwest was that there were evergreens all over, and the fresh fallen needles really cushioned the ground. But there were also lots of twigs and where there wasn’t damp and rotten leaves, there were crisp ones that crunched satisfyingly under foot. So she minded him to take his time. _Walk deliberately,_ she said. _Slow_.   
  
And then it was mastering his actual posture. Max watched her example, how she moved with her torso leaned slightly forward and her knees bent, not too much but still lax. Max had more trouble with it than expected. His heavy backpack put him off balance but over an hour he figured out how to compensate and his leg muscles burned with the effort, but he was determined. Determination was one thing he still liked about himself anymore.   
  
_ Gonna write that in the journal later,  _ he thought.  _ Can’t let this shit get to me. _   
  
“Last thing. This is the toughest one, and this might be the most important. Keep as you are,” Aster minded him, standing over Max and speaking just loud enough that he could hear her. “Look straight ahead where you’re going. Count to ten.”   
  
Max followed her arm into the forest ahead, and tried not to get too overwhelmed by the vortex of endless wilderness. Once he got to ten, Aster covered his eyes. “Close them. Now tell me what you saw, going left to right.”   
  
“Uh...trees.”   
  
“What kind?”   
  
“I-I don’t know? Pine?”   
  
“How many? How tall? Can you climb any of them? Alive or dead?”   
  
“Alive?” Was all he could get out with the flood of information.   
  
“Any logs? Bushes?”   
  
“One bush, like...on the right?”   
  
“What else?”   
  
Max faltered and realized he had no answer to give. Aster uncovered his eyes and he looked up at her, and she almost looked disappointed. “Again.” she said firmly.   
  
They did it over and over, until Max was able to rattle off his surroundings roughly twenty or thirty feet ahead of him. And then she dragged him another mile into the forest and made him do it again. Max was starting to feel tired, so Aster finally let them sit and drink some water. They leaned against trees as he caught his breath and Aster studied her canteen. “Snow and ice will always melt if there’s water in it.”   
  
“I know, David told me.” he said robotically.   
  
“So he actually remembers some of the shit I taught him? Didn’t figure.” she muttered. “He’s gotten soft, especially because of that  _ bloody  _ camp.”   
  
It did make him feel a little better she wasn’t a fan of Camp Campbell. “Why did you teach him this stuff?” Max asked, capping his water bottle and hanging it on the side of his pack again. Now he was certain it wasn’t for fun, and he wanted to hear another reason for camping besides David’s speil.    
  
He watched Aster gaze around the trees, then tilt her head back to stare up at the sky as she thought about her answer. “Same reason I’m teaching you, merry man. This family has survival coursing through our veins, but that only takes someone so far if they don’t know what to do with it.”   
  
“What family?” Max scoffed, following her lead as they stood up and she produced her compass and began checking it and the sky periodically. “You and David aren’t related, and I’m a goddamn stray...Do you have relatives?”   
  
Aster studied him with a hyper critical expression that made Max feel sympathetic for any crooks she interrogated. But she just moved the conversation along. Tons. My parents, siblings, nieces and nephews. Teablooms multiply like rabbits. But they’re all back in England and I don’t talk to them much.”   
  
“Did something happen?”   
  
“No,” she sighed. “I mean, we didn’t fall out. But sometimes things happen that change you, and it can make you feel disconnected from your life before that change. The people, too.”   
  
_ I get that, _ he thought and felt a little bad for her. He rattled off the things that could be the catalyst for that disconnection in his head. Cult took over her home, her husband was murdered, her fingers were chopped off by said cultists, she’s a cop in a town with a long history of missing kids and murders and everyone expects her to have all the answers…   
  
_ Me included. Aw, shit. I’m an asshole _ .   
  
“Was Willow really into all this nature crap?” he asked, kicking a pine cone. Not his greatest subject change, since it still dwelt on the family theme. But it just felt weird now to ask David about her. He knew it upset him, however hard David tried to act like it didn’t and give him straight answers.    
  
“She liked to garden, but just flowers and vegetables. She was a full time trauma surgeon, dear, she didn’t have time to go hiking and bird watching.”   
  
“So...she worked all the time?” Max kicked himself for not connecting the dots before. Anyone who worked in an emergency room was probably there at ungodly hours, meaning David didn’t get to see her much. Although he was lucky enough to be pawned off on a loving grandparent or family friend. Still, it didn’t sit right with Max, the growing idea that David had also been a lonely kid. He sure didn’t fit the profile.   
  
“Yes.” Aster paused before speaking again. “It was a little hard on Davey. He was missing her a lot of the time when he was super little but when she had to... _ retire _ ...they got all the time together in the world.”   
  
“Except they didn’t, though.”  _ because she’s fucking  _ ** _dead_ ** _ . _   
  
“Nobody really has that, Max. You know, it means so much to him you’re picking up music. That was one of the things that they shared the most. Even on the days she was only getting home to kiss him goodnight, she played a song for him to help him sleep. On Sundays they performed hymns together in Mass and she had a song for everything, and I mean _everything_, Max. Every chore, every day of the week, to make him feel better when he was sick or fell down, you name it, she had it. And when she stopped being able to sing, David took over. It was so important to him that they didn’t lose that. You should’ve seen him trying to play her big grown up guitar,” Aster chuckled warmly at the memory. “Itty bitty arms could barely hold the thing.”   
  
Max had this image in his head of a woman he had never met, but he felt like her knew her regardless. Through pictures around the Teabloom home and albums he had sneaked peeks at while helping David with chores around his house, he had an idea of a person as lively as her child. As musical, as kind and as rare.    
  
Max even felt sad he’d never get to meet the person who was the reason David had a song for every nightmare, breakdown and asthma attack or long car ride. “Did you know her from medical school? David said you went.”   
  
“Ah, he’s embellishing. I studied as an EMT. I wanted the additional emergency training as a police officer. But yes, that is how we met...Let’s camp here. I can hear you getting wheezy.”   
  
“I’m not,” he bristled but she was true. With the wind and rustle of the branches above, it covered up the slight tell-tale whistling in his chest and he did notice a tense soreness in his diaphragm. Aster let him sit and take a moment with his inhaler as she pitched the tent. She rolled out the sleeping bags inside and began forming a fire pit out of rocks after digging a small ditch with her own knife. “You good?” she asked.   
  
“Mostly.”   
  
“Then it's time to soldier on. You’re finding firewood.”   
  
“It’s all wet, idiot. Hope you brought lighter fluid.” he got to his feet, and groaned quietly. They felt like dead weights from all the trekking.    
  
Aster smirked at him and gave her knife a twirl around her five-fingered hand as she stood up. “Oh, ye of little faith. Follow me. We’re hunting for dead trees.”   
  
Max was ready to scream over being dragged through the forest yet again, but his interest spiked when Aster told him to get his knife ready. It was surprisingly heavy and he kept adjusting his grip, trying to find a way of holding it that he felt comfortable with but it just felt weird. Being given a weapon freely took half the fun out of it, and he was treading carefully to make sure it didn't get confiscated, which just made him feel even weirder.   
  
Finally, Aster found a log leaning across another and she inspected the blackened wood at the elevated end. “This one is good. See how it’s off the ground? The water in it can’t rot it that way. Now, you’re going to wedge your blade like so. Work it if you can, but if not, tapping it with something will work. A rock is good, but a chunk of wood is quieter.”   
  
Max felt that twinge of something. A light that glowed in the back of his mind when Aster said or did something that set some kind of instinct off, one that he didn’t know how to interpret yet. “Why the fuck does it matter if it’s quieter?”   
  
Aster paused as she wiggled the blade in a see-saw fashion, deftly maneuvering it as she splintered off a chunk to get at the dry core. “...Sometimes it does. You’ll know when.”   
  
They spent an hour gathering fuel, and Aster showed him the proper way to shave the wood into tinder. She showed him a different way of building it than Gwen and David did, one that would keep the flames lower but it would be warm enough to cook with and keep them warm. Once it was going, Aster hefted her bow off her pack. “You stay put.”   
  
Max looked up from the flames, as he coaxed one more piece of wood into the right spot so it would fall into the flames when the others burned down enough. “Finally ditching me?”   
  
“Overdue, isn’t it?” she winked at him, and silently bounded off into the trees. She had vanished in less time than it took for him to blink.    
  
She was gone for roughly an hour and Max was starting to worry their joke actually hadn’t been one. Or maybe she fell down a ravine or a bear or wolf got her. And just as he was contemplating disobeying her order to look for his oddball foster mother, he heard footsteps approaching. But he couldn’t see in the darkness and Max looked around wildly, and spotted a cluster of leafy plants off the side of camp. He kept low to the ground and scurried into it and knelt on one knee, making sure to keep his head and pack below the top of them.    
  
Aster was rubbing off on him. He was becoming paranoid.   
  
_ You’re not paranoid. Someone tried to fucking kidnap you and murder David. Hiding is a solid call!  _ He reassured himself, until he saw Aster trudging up. She took one look around, then plucked up a pine cone and tossed it into his hiding spot. “Excellent. Now come out and help me make dinner.”   
  
Max popped his head up and slowly ventured out. “Thought you weren’t coming back.”   
  
“But I did, and I have dinner.” Aster untied something from the back of her pack and tossed down a bundle of sticks laden with oval shaped, wine red berries and something else. Max reeled back in disgust. “I’m not eating a fucking possum!”   
  
“Their texture is better than squirrels.” She said, taking her knife and picking up the deceased vermin. “And they are actually very clean. They get a bad reputation for being diseased.”   
  
Max couldn’t stand to watch it. This was one lesson he wasn’t interested in, and he turned away and covered his ears as she gut and skinned it. He made the mistake of peeking over his shoulder when she was setting it up over the fire and the sight of a glistening bare corpse with no head made him feel sick. “I can’t eat that,” he choked out. “It was alive an hour ago!”   
  
“I know, love. But we’re part of the circle of life, too. Come on...we have to dispose of this stuff or other predators are going to smell it. I want you to stoke the fire, and put this all in it.” she gestured to the bundle of fur resting on a bed of wide leaves.    
  
In the end, Max was too hungry, so he did as he was told. And in the end, the possum tasted more like pork and the rosehip berries were sour but she assured him they were very safe and nutritious. 

The smell of the burning innards haunted him well into his dreams.   
  
For three days, Aster drilled him on survival. By the third, they hardly spoke except for gestures and facial expressions. She showed him how to properly camouflage himself in a pinch, to cover exposed skin with earth and muss his hair with dirt so it didn’t shine. She taught him how to set snares, how to shoot his bow while in motion and how to keep quiet when doing so, and how to build a shelter without a tent, and insulate himself from the cold ground. He asked her how she always knew where she was, and her answer would ensure Max never got lost again as long as he followed it properly. _"I always know where I have been, and where I am going. Not where I am."_   
  
He got used to eating roasted small animals and sour or bitter plants, and his stomach was full and his tongue indifferent to the tastes. He got used to the cold, to the soreness in his legs and he learned to almost never uncover his mouth and nose to the cold because wheezing was a give away.    
  
She took him deep into the wilderness, and as they made their way back, Aster began pushing him to find their dinner and wood. She made him take over as she observed. When he brought back look alike weeds that would kill them, she chucked them into the fire and sent him back into the trees with a sharply pointed arm and an unforgiving,  _ “Again.” _ _   
_ _   
_ And as much as he was impressed with their ability to make it, he still loathed the way she spoke to him and that there were no campfire songs, no hot apple cider and no constellation stories. It was keep moving, keep foraging, keep his eyes open and his mouth shut or die.

  
  
Now was the part he dreaded. His hand was steady as he drew the bow, and his fingers didn’t hurt anymore. Blisters had become new calluses and without the time to think about his aim, his eyes had become sharper too. They easily picked out the brown rabbit hopping lazy through the brown brush. It was this, or no dinner.    
  
But he remembered his younger self crying bitter tears over another brown rabbit with a caved in head, new lashes burning on his back and crawling back into bed to cuddle with Mr. Honeynuts and try with all his might to forget where he was and what he saw.    
  
Max looked down, tears brimming his eyes. Aster would lecture him. She would be disappointed in his choice to fail, but..._It’s my choice_, he thought as he shifted his foot and let a cluster of dry leaves crunch under it. Surely enough, the rabbit bolted at the sound and was gone.   
  
A moment later, Aster joined him and he let the bowstring down and put the arrow away. He looked up at her, and his eyes were dry. His heart beat calmly, and breathing was as easy as could be. He wanted to give a sarcastic apology or lame excuse but he looked up at her intense eyes with his own and realized he didn’t need that buffer. He could just own it. “I wasn’t going to kill a living thing if I don’t have to.” he said firmly. He would live off of roots and berries if that was what it took to stand by his word.   
  
He waited for the inevitable dressing down, but then she smiled. Aster leaned forward and took him by the back of his head, and kissed the crown of his hair. Max was too shocked to stop her from being so _disgustingly_ affectionate. “You’re just like Davey, and nothing like Sunil in all the best ways.”   
  
Aster reached into her pack and Max watched her produce a can of chili. He computed that for a moment, before he threw his bow on the ground and screamed,  _ “EAT SHIT, ASTER!” _ as she laughed at his expense and began leading the way back to their campsite.   
  
They ate chili and short bread that night, and bedded down before the final six hour hike back to the car. Max listened to the distant howl of wolves, twenty voices yipping and calling in harmony, and it was the closest to-- no, it _was_ music. “Was this your idea of a punishment?” he asked in a whisper.   
  
“No,” she whispered back in the dark. “It’s me taking you seriously. Because she will not be the last, Max, and you are not safe. More will come, and when they do, you have to run. Run to the forest. Make yourself a part of it, and they will never be able to take you.”   
  
She said a lot of cryptic things, but that took the cake. Max only slept because he was too physically exhausted not to, and remembered that the woods were within running distance of both Aster and David’s house.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“David? Victoria’s here to get me. They got back last night and Max has had time to get settled back in, so...It’s today.”   
  
David stopped in the middle of his task and looked over his shoulder at her. Gwen waited for him to say anything, maybe something encouraging or advice but he just dropped a soft, “Alright. See you.” and returned to scraping the brush along Gormlaith’s back.    
  
When Gwen found out Adaire had a horse, she lost her freaking mind. She went full David, bouncing off the walls excited, like a little kid who just found out she was getting a puppy and wouldn’t let the matter rest until Adaire snapped, _ “For God’s sake, Davey, take her already and get her away from me!” _ and David happily brought her out back to the stables to meet the majestic beast.    
  
She was absolutely floored by how big she was, and how beautiful. The bay clydesdale was peacefully grinding her afternoon snack while she got brushed, making contented chuffing noises and swinging her head around every time David stopped. The most spoiled horse in existence, but she was delightful. “I could do the horse chores and you could go?” she suggested, trying to veil it like she just wanted to spend time with Gormlaith...which was true.   
  
David shook his head and swished brushes to get tangles out of her shaggy mane, which was time consuming with just one hand. “Told you. He doesn’t want to see me.”   
  
_Ow_. She hated how dejected he sounded. It was like he wasn’t even the pure ray of sunshine she couldn’t stand last June. “It’s not for the reasons you think,” Gwen tried to reassure but he wasn’t hearing it. She heard a cheerful beep from Victoria’s car, reminding her that time passed. This bubble that was their world wasn’t immune to that. “He’s going to need you,” she said, backing towards the door. “And Max isn’t the same kid he was last summer that ran away from help. You’ll get to be there, David, just be ready for it. You’ll see.”   
  
She didn’t miss the doubtful look on his face before she left him alone and hurried off before Victoria was stuck waiting much longer.    
  
It was a very quiet drive. They exchanged pleasantries, but they both have the same thing on their mind. After she told Max, things would always be different.   
  
Their house was finally freed from investigation and they had moved back into it, and Gwen hoped the familiar setting would comfort Max. But she knew him well enough that after Halloween, this place was tainted forever to him. It would always be the place where he thought he would be safe, and then he learned he wasn’t. It would always be the place where he was triggered into a flashback by David’s actions, however justified they had been. And it would always be where he learned his mother was gone forever.   
  
Gwen had made a choice over the six days they were gone that Rishima deserved to be remembered properly. Max deserved to know that he hadn’t been unwanted, and she started with that.   
  
She found him in the backyard, bundled up against the cold as he yanked arrows out of a target and saw her as he was trudging back. All of his inky black curls were sticking out from under his hat haphazardly and he looked so much calmer than she last saw him, Gwen almost backed out for fear of destroying whatever momentary peace he had found. But she promised David she would do this. “Hey, you little shit.”   
  
“Hey, bitch.”   
  
She smiled, but inside she was sobbing. He was smiling back at her, and he had his mom’s dimples. “Let’s go sit.”   
  
They settled around the inactive firepit and the cold, lightless ashes that stained the inside of it reminded her exactly of how the world felt in the moment. The sky was heavy and gray, the air was brisk and cut through her thin jacket. But unlike her, Max didn’t shiver. He had grown into this place, and he was an autumn baby, after all.    
  
He was so damn quiet. The same kid that ripped into people with the kind of fury that made the devil think “oh no, he’s up” when his feet hit the floor in the morning was muted. Max never once looked away from her from the moment she said,  _ “I have something to tell you about your mother,” _ and every word after that.   
  
And every one of those words out of her mouth felt traitorous, because she was the wrong person to say them. She didn’t know how Max felt, but David could get close. She wanted to reach out and hold his little hands, but Max pulled back from her and she was left with empty air. She did her best to explain how she had met his mother and their visits afterwards, but left out the gore and focused on the sole purpose of them. She missed her son, and had been trying to get better for his sake. She expected him to finally explode as she revealed what she had hidden, careful to not mention David, but he was still unbearably silent.  
  
“I know that she let you down, Max. She hurt you and made mistakes, and you don’t owe her an ounce of your forgiveness. I just want you to know that none of it was your fault, and she  _ never  _ hated you for a moment. She didn’t abandon you. She sent you away to protect you from your father, and she _never_ regretted making that choice.”   
  
“...did she really want to see me?” he asked, his voice completely neutral.    
  
Gwen couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore. She heard Rishima’s voice, with her faded accent and wavering with her grief.  _ I’d give anything to hold him one more time, just to say a real goodbye.  _ “She did,” her voice broke. “She just-- couldn’t get away. And she also thought maybe you were better off if she didn't.”   
  
“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve-- I could’ve seen her, too! You could taken me with you or something.”   
  
“Did you _want_ to see her?” Gwen asked, afraid of the answer.   
  
Max faltered, bouncing back and forth between rage and hurt, as he tried to work his way through the tangle of emotions. “I don’t know,” he snapped, “But I should’ve gotten to decide. You had no right to choose for me!”   
  
“Max, it’s a really complicat--”   
  


“Oh, spare me the fucking complicated excuse! That’s just what people say when they’re too fucking lazy to figure out a real answer to what’s going on! It’s a cop-out!” the words came so sharply, Gwen flinched back, wondering how the hell he hadn’t evolved to spit venom with them, too. She could feel all the loathing radiating off of him and Max blinked back his furious tears and balled up his fists as he raised his voice at her. “I was stupid enough to trust you, and then you went behind my back. _Go to hell, Gwen!”_   
  
She wasn’t offended by the order, no. It was her worst nightmare. That he would hate her for hiding things from him, and she cared so much about this little jerk whether or not she wanted to and she owed it to Rishima to take care of him. To her friend. Because in the end, no matter how ‘complicated’ she was as a person, Gwen would have loved to have had her in her life.    
  
But her son was just as worn down and tormented as she was. Sunil had tortured the two of them for ten and a half years. Before she could even think of anything that could possibly smooth things over, Max turned on his heel and took off towards the tree line.  _ Shit! He’s gonna get himself lost! Or hurt! Or an asthma attack-- _   
  
“Max, stop!” she shouted after him, starting to follow but a firm hand caught her arm and stopped her. Gwen rounded on the culprit, and came face to face with Aster. “Let him go,” she said calmly.   
  
“He’s running away into the woods, we have to stop him!” she insisted.   
  
“He’ll be fine. Trust me. Come in for some tea, it's been a hard day for you too."   
  
Gwen stuttered in disbelief, and watched as Max had stopped running but was quickly making his way over the stretch of hills and grass to the pines. He never even looked back. 

* * *

  
He couldn’t think back there, with other people around him and all the white noise of the suburbs that had become deafening to him since his time spent in the wilderness. Every breath dragged bitterly cold air through his straining lungs, but he never kept his inhaler in a backpack anymore. He kept it in the inner pocket of his coat.   
  
Once he was deep enough into the trees, with the smell of wet leaves and crisp frost in his senses, he stopped long enough to use it and catch his breath before he started having a real attack. But he couldn’t see any of the houses now, or hear any people, and that was what he needed so badly.   
  
Strangely enough, the world looked the same even though he expected it to be different.    
  
Because everything was different.   
_   
_ _ Because my mother is dead _ .   
  
_ **I killed her.** _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I was the worst thing that ever happened to her, and she finally tried to do something good for me and he murdered her for it. Wonder how he did it. Nothing messy. He hates anything messy. So no blood, and probably no poison because she’d vomit or foam everywhere. Or is it not like in the movies?  _ _   
_ _   
_ “Fuck! What the fuck?! What’s wrong with me?!” Max struck his hands against his head, as if he could knock the intrusive thoughts away with the dulled impacts of his hands but it didn’t do much to help.  _ Normal kids don’t think about that shit, stop it!  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ But you aren’t normal. You’re the spawn of one of the most evil people on earth. He killed her. _ _   
_ _   
_ “Shut up.” he whispered and dug his fingers into his scalp until it hurt.   
  
The pain made it a little quieter, but then the insidious whispers began anew tenfold.   
  
_ Now he’s going to kill Aster, and Victoria, and then he’s going to kill Gwen and David. _ _   
_ _   
_ “No!”   
  
_ If you’re lucky, maybe he’ll put you out of your misery too. _

_ But you're never lucky.  
_ _   
_ Max felt like he was being dragged down by chains, forcing his knees to buckle as he was hauled towards the earth that threatened to swallow him up and his chest was so tight, like a massive serpent was trying to crush the life out of him and he struggled for breath but he couldn’t breathe.  _ He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe-- _ _   
_   
Max opened his mouth and a scream ripped from his throat, carrying out into the dense forest where only the trees and animals could hear his anguish. By the time it was done, he had his forehead pressed to the frigid earth. The musty smell of the soil and chill grounded him back to reality, and the voices were silent. _   
_ _   
_ He slowly sat up, still on his knees and the forest was so much quieter around him. He didn’t see it, but he knew every little critter nearby scrammed when he made that noise. But he remembered in the back of his mind that when they thought the perceived danger was gone, they would return. He heard that in a story about a hunter, a goddess and a scorpion once before.   
  
Max focused on the gentle, melodious rustle and creak of branches above and stared up through them as the patches of sky. He didn’t feel the stiffness in his legs from sitting in a weird position for so long, and he didn’t even feel the passage of time as birds began to call to each other again.    
  
The shadows around him began to deepen and grow, and Max finally got up. He didn’t even need to think about where he was going. He just knew internally where he had come from, and before he knew it, he had cleared the tree line and could see the house on the rise in front of him. No Gwen in a bright purple jacket.    
  
But he did see the back door open and saw Aster in her hunter coat waiting patiently with Winifred at her side, who officially was cone free. He was afraid for a fleeting second that she would be angry with him but he knew in his heart she wasn’t. She understood.   
  
He trudged his way up the hill and back onto the property, and he knelt down as Winifred lumbered her way to him. For days, she was just a drowsy lump but now she was eased off her meds and could do her job properly. Max hugged his arms around her neck and Aster made her way over to him. “So?”   
  
“I don’t want to talk about it.” he said honestly, and Winifred gave him a kiss on his cheek. For once, it didn’t lessen his sadness.   
  
“We don’t have to. But,” she knelt down and offered her hands out to him. Max stared down at the calloused palms, and her fingers (what were left of them) nicked all over with scars. But he let go of Winifred to take them anyway, ignoring his apprehension. It felt like the world was working against him, and he wasn’t going to let it push him away from good people.  _ There are good people _ . “If you miss your mother, Max, that’s okay. And if you don’t miss her, that isn’t something to be ashamed of.”   
  
Max chewed on the inside of his cheek and looked up at her, and her warm smile. Through meltdowns and sabotage, rebellions and cold shoulders, she always stuck by him. She gave him a home. She was always there, and he was so scared that one day, she would end up in a metal slab too. I’d miss you, he thought but couldn’t say it.    
  
He didn’t say anything when she took him back into the house, or during dinner. He didn’t speak a word as Victoria and Aster tucked him into bed, or the next morning at breakfast.   
  
Max’s voice had locked itself into a box and wanted to stay there for a long time to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to ask you guys, would you be interested in a short fic about Aster's backstory? It would include David's parents, and focus on what happened in 1984. I'd probably post it in between The Bravest Thing and the follow up series. Let me know in comments or blow up my tumblr inbox!


	4. Chapter 4

Aster almost called out as she stepped in the door, before she remembered they had a little one in the house again and it was past his bedtime. So instead, she silently set her coat on the hook and made sure not to stomp around as she checked the kitchen. Sure enough, Vicky was boiling the kettle like clockwork and was putting together a small dinner. Aster didn’t really feel like she had an appetite, but it was the gesture that meant so much to her.  
  
“Hi,” she said quietly, walking up to her wife and wrapping her arms around her slender waist. She closed her eyes and breathed in her rich herbal smell of lilac and sage. She missed her. Not just while at work, but during the day when her mind was years away into the past and she just wasn’t able to let Victoria in. “How’s our little wolverine?”   
  
“He’s fine,” she said, her words clipped short as she turned off the stove and wiggled free of her arms to pour the hot water. “Still mute.”   
  
_ Darn. So she is mad at me. _   
  
Aster didn’t dare sit down, but she did try to subtle undo her weapon holster, which Victoria had noted before she didn’t like her wearing around the house. “I know I’ve been away more than usual…”   
  
“Leaving on a hunting trip with our ten year old for six days? Yeah, that’s more than usual.”   
  
“I left a note…” _No, nope, bad call, back it up idiot. _But she had already put her foot in her mouth. 

  
“Normal people call, Aster. Or better yet, they talk to their wife face to face.”   
  
She winced at the use of the word **normal**, and reminded herself Victoria didn’t mean it maliciously. Aster knew she had a point, though. “I know. You’re right to be cross--”   
  
“I’m not cross!” Victoria exclaimed, setting the kettle down with a clang on the stove top and Aster instinctively looked up at the ceiling, expecting Max to come storming down forty five seconds later to rip into them for waking him up. It would not be the first time. He was as light of a sleeper as she was. “You _ seem _ like you are ,” Aster pointed out.   
  
Victoria fumed at her, her cheeks flushing a deep burgundy and her lips pressed together in a thin line. Even when she was barreling her way towards the dog house, Aster couldn’t help but smile. _ Lord, save me. She’s so cute. _ “Stop that,” Victoria hissed at her. “I know what you’re thinking and you stop it right now. You said that you wouldn’t do this sort of thing with Max. It was imperative that he gets to be a regular ten year old that rots his brain playing video games and focuses on catching up on school! You can’t put him through the same thing you did David!”   
  
Aster didn’t think she was so cute anymore. She clenched her jaw and looked over at a framed picture she kept of him nestled on the kitchen window sill over the sink. He was little more than a year and a half, all round cheeks and super orange baby hair, toting around her chief of police hat on his head. She remembered after getting that adorable picture, he proceeded to toddle full speed straight into a door frame as it covered his eyes. Danger prone from day one. “That was different, and you know it.” she said, her voice trembling. “I prom--”   
  
“You promised his father,” Victoria said in unison, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Still milking that excuse? First of all, Peter was a damn _bastard_ and second, it doesn’t change the fact you made him grow up too fast.”   
  
“I did _ not _ . I gave him time. I let him choose for himself when he did what!”   
  
“He should never have had to make those choices! Aster, please, you have to let it _ go _ . It’s over. It’s been over for years, they aren’t coming back and this paranoia that they will is hurting your family.” Victoria pleaded her desperately and leaned down, placing her hands on Aster’s shoulders, who just couldn’t meet her eyes because once upon a time those words might have been true but she knew now for certain they weren’t. “What happened on Halloween has **nothing** to do with a cult from twenty years ago!”   
  
The memories threatened to overwhelm her. Aster felt like she was standing on a precipice to an abyss and the demons that waited below were just mere inches away from grabbing her ankles and finally taking her. She couldn’t tell Victoria. She loved her as much as she loved Terrin, just differently, but she knew deep down she wouldn’t understand. Aster had the most traitorous thought of wishing she could talk to someone who would, and a person came to mind, an arrogant insufferable ex-cop that bore only a visual resemblance to his son and none of his personality. But promises were promises.   
  
That and it was illegal to share with Victoria, because it was confidential information to an ongoing investigation. Aster closed her eyes and looked down, trying in vain to keep it together. But she was just so close to falling apart. Victoria’s grip softened. “Babe? Is there something you’re not telling me?”   
  
Aster nodded, and forced a deep breath in through the nose to steady her nerves. But there was no steadying them anymore. There was just trying to act like she didn’t have them anymore, and she had perfected the art over the decades, except now it was being lost to her. “Yes,” she dared to whisper out. “And if I could tell you, Vicky, I would. But I just need to get a breakthrough in this case and I swear, it will all come together and I’ll fix things and it will be over, then I can tell you everything. I know asking you to be patient is asking the world--”   
  
“It’s not your job to save everyone.” Victoria said gently, stepping closer and framing her face in her hands. Aster let her tilt her head up to look into her eyes. She wasn’t smiling but she wasn’t glaring. 

History argued otherwise, but Aster felt like she had never saved anyone. The crushing weight of lives, here and gone, clung to her like a second skin. She brought her intact hand up to her face and as her shoulders began to quake, her wife wrapped her arms around her and pulled her closer. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry...I know you’re trying your best.” Victoria murmured in her ear.  
  
“Jesus, don’t apologize to me, I’m the one fucking up!” Aster cursed against her shoulder, but she clung to her anyway. Aster trembled, and was fighting every blasphemous instinct to acknowledge how overtaxed her heart felt. “I just have to know they’ll be okay without me, Vicky, or I’ll actually go mad.”   
  
“They are. You can let go a little, it won’t all come crashing down if you do.”   
  
“I _ did _ let go! And Davey almost _ died _ , Vicky, he almost…he’s like my own baby and he’s all I got left of Willow. If I was one second later, I’d have lost him and I just can’t lose anyone else--”   
  
“But you weren’t a second later.” she crooned patiently and kissed her temple. “You haven’t lost anyone, and I’m still with you. Aster, please...you’re going to your dark place.”   
  
“I’m not,” she shook her head in denial, knowing what she meant and wishing desperately she was wrong but Victoria was _ never _wrong.

"Have you talked to Doctor--"  
  
"Vicky, _please stop!"_  
  
“Alright. Eat some dinner, and we’ll go to bed and talk tomorrow when we’re not all grouchy from a long day.” she said, once again perfectly calm as she switched to holding Aster by both hands and kissed each of them on the knuckles. Somehow, whenever she did it, the phantom digits didn't ache even in the slightest.   
  
“Yes, ma’am.” Aster said, her voice still unsteady but the moment of panic had passed.   
  
Victoria held her hand while she worked her way through her dinner. But despite how it was made with love and skill, it just tasted like cardboard to her. She couldn’t taste **anything, **yet she toughed it out until her plate was clear. They washed up, went through their routine and tip toed around to avoid waking their favorite little hellion as they got into bed and turned out the lights.   
  
Victoria always fell asleep before she did, but it took them both longer than usual. Aster curled up with her back to her, claiming the ‘little spoon’ role as Victoria ran her fingers through her hair to comfort her. Sometimes it worked but that night it just wasn't having an effect.   
  
Every time she closed her eyes, it brought her back to the night she couldn’t throw herself up the stairs fast enough to get to her kids and stop one of **them ** from taking away yet another person she loved.   
  
Aster had seen an unimaginable amount of blood in her life, but it still didn’t harden her to being covered in David’s. Begging him to not fall asleep, telling him that help was on the way and not knowing if maybe his brain was swelling or he could even hear her because for all she knew, his skull was obliterated and he was going to die painfully in a matter of minutes just like so many before him. He only opened his eyes once to look straight at her, and she knew he wasn’t really _ seeing _ her because he asked in bewilderment, _ “Mom?” _ before he blacked out and _she lost her fucking mind_ trying to wake him up. Right after, paramedics and officers stormed the house.   
  
Then she had to reset and find Max, because he needed her more.   
  
Her ears pricked at the sound of harsh coughs just a hallway over. They almost always came in threes and were muffled by a teddy bear or a pillow. She started to sit up, whispering, “I’ll get hi--”   
  
“He’s fine.” Victoria pulled her back down again. “No point if it stops on its own. Y’know it takes forever for him to get back to sleep. Just listen and if he keeps going, we'll wake him.”   
  
Aster laid back down miserably, but now she was wide awake again. Max had stopped coughing and it looked like he would make it through the night without the nebulizer, which was of course a relief but now she had no excuse to be laying awake. Aster closed her eyes, _ stop staring at the fucking ceiling, _ and snuggled close to her wife again to get the sleep she so desperately needed. It was always elusive, but it was just beyond her reach and if she just stayed still and let it come to her, then…   
  
Both of them sat bolt upright as an ear splitting scream wrenched them to full consciousness again. 

* * *

  
  


Before he packed things up to head home, he helped Granda bring Gormlaith in from her pasture. Well behaved as she was, her one thing was taking her time coming back to the stable but his grandfather always had a knack for getting her to listen. As they watched her trot cheerfully towards them in response to his call, Adaire asked, “Do you think your boy would want to learn to ride?”  
  
“A horse?”   
  
“No, a cat.”   
  
David smiled and held his hand out until her bridle was in reach. Honestly, he wasn’t sure. Max clearly liked animals but he still tried to be disinterested in the things David introduced him to, just for tradition's sake. It was a work in progress. “You can certainly offer to teach him.” he said, leading her back towards her stall. “But maybe at the local stables, they have ponies for kids. She’s way too big for him.”

“Nonsense, she’s the gentlest lady there is.”  
  
“...Granda, I fell off of her all the time when I was Max’s size.”   
  
“That’s because you weren’t doin’ it right. Och, that reminds me! I’ve got a picture of you dangling from the stirrup! It's a riot. Could show it to Max--”   
  
“ _ Grandapleaseno _ .”   
  
In the end, he agreed that if Max wanted to go, Adaire could take him to lessons that David scheduled, and a helmet was required. David hoped maybe Max would actually go for it. He would need all the distraction possible.

It was so great to be back in his own house, even though time spent with Granda had actually been good. If David was being truthful, and he always was, it was what they needed. Quietly going through chores and only speaking when they felt comfortable helped to ease the last bit of awkwardness, and the rift was officially closed between them. He had almost no reservations anymore, and it did console him a little bit that Adaire would help him with Max or at least be there to talk to when he needed someone for it.   
  
Still, it wasn’t enough to give David peace of mind. He laid awake, kept up by the dull bone-pain in his arm because he was weaning himself off the pain meds (he didn’t want to be on them when he saw Max again) and by the worry twisting his insides into knots. 

He turned his head over to look at the clock, which read **1:26 ** am, and shone a dull green light on the paperwork beside it. He could bear to look at it a second more. If he filled it out and sent it through the right channel, guardian rights would transfer back to Aster and Victoria.   
  
It was the very last thing he ever wanted to do, but if Max was intent on not having him around anymore, he wouldn’t force the kid to live with him. It would break his heart into a million pieces to let him go, to let _ another person go, _ but it was the right thing for him. Max deserved to live with people he didn’t despise.   
  
He closed his eyes, but snapped them open again at the deafening **bzzt!bzzt!bzzt!** Of his phone going haywire and rattling onto the floor. He clumsily threw himself upright, struggling with the one arm and to kick his heavy comforter off but he managed to pick it up before it stopped. He got a glimpse at the contact before answering. “Aster? What’s going on? Is it M--”   
  
_ “It’s Max,” _ she confirmed.   
  
Before either of them could follow up, he heard a short but terrified shriek in the background that he just knew was his favorite camper and David was on his feet in a second. “What was that?!”   
  
_ “Vicky, just give him space! He doesn’t know it’s you! David, he’s had the nightmare of all nightmares.” _   
  
David tucked the phone between his shoulder and cheek, following his instincts as he began to track down a pair of jeans to replace the pajama pants. “How can I help? Did you try playing music?”   
  
_ “Yep.” _   
  
“What about taking him for a drive?”   
  
_ “He won’t let us near him and I’m worried about his asthma if he gets any more worked up.” _   
  
“Does he have Mr. Honeynuts?”   
_   
_ _“We tried giving it to him, he just chucked it across the room-- what? What’s he doing?”_ He heard Aster’s voice drift a little from the receiver and Victoria talking in the background, but David didn’t catch what she said. “Aster?”   
  
_ “I’m here. Look, he doesn’t want us, I’m going to bring him over to you.” _ _   
_ _   
_ “Wha-- nonono! Don’t do that! He’ll just get more upset and you’ll pay for it for a month! Believe me, he can hold a grudge like nobody’s business and if you make him do something he doesn’t want to do, it’s going…”   
  
_ “See you in ten.” _   
  
“Aster!” he insisted louder, forgetting Gwen was sleeping in the guest room but his phone beeped a minor tone, signaling the call was ended.   
  
David was in a state. First of all, he had to wake up Gwen and let her know Max was on his way over, and she was pretty confused but got the idea to keep herself scarce in the guest room considering Max was even less eager to see her. “Just give him time,” he told her, identical to what she kept telling him but she waved him off with a drowsy grunt and rolled back over. She was feigning being unaffected, and David knew that, but he didn't have time to address it.   
  
He waited downstairs and fidgeted anxiously with his phone. His thumb hovered over the contacts until he finally pressed the name and waited. Six rings until a grouchy voice picked up, _ “Why do you keep waking me up, boy?” _ _   
_ _   
_ He didn't bother to give him an answer, he just jumped straight into it and hoped Adaire was mentally present enough to comprehend his words. “What was it you made me to drink? After bad dreams? And thunderstorms? A-and that one time there was a big spider in my bed and I wouldn’t go back into my room--”   
  
_ “I donnae know...chamomile.” _ _   
_ _   
_ “No, no, when I was littler than that. You carried me around in the kitchen and I remember there was a pot on the stove?”   
  
_ “Ah. ‘Twas just milk, Davey. Little bit of honey and cinnamon. Put you right out again.” _ _   
_ _   
_ He cracked a smile and looked up at two distant white lights on the country road, coming down the tree tunnel in the distance. “Really? That’s all it was?”   
  
_ “Mmhm. Can I go back t’sleep now?” _ _   
_ _   
_ “Yep. Thanks, Granda. _ Oidhche mhath _ .”   
  
_ “Oidhche mhath.” _ he hung up as Aster pulled into the driveway.

He got the milk and necessary components out of the fridge, maneuvering around with the cast more easily now and waited until the door swung open. Aster only really knocked to announce herself, which was fine but she stopped to hold it for someone else.  
  
David held his breath, and his heart was doing a happy dance because he was finally seeing Max for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He was right there, in his blue flannels that David bought him months ago and sneakers that didn’t match at all, his hair wilder than ever from tossing and turning in his sleep. He wanted to just run to him and sweep him up in a hug, but he reminded himself that it would likely just terrorize or anger Max, so he stayed where he was.   
  
Aster leaned down and spoke to him quietly, and Max scooted a half step away from her. David caught the tail end of what she was saying. “Sometimes you have to lance a wound before it can begin to heal. Do you understand, love?”   
  
Max glared at her pointedly and shrugged his shoulders. Aster stood up and gestured to David, who waved nervously with his good hand. “I think the surgeon’s son can explain it to you.”   
  
He didn’t miss the expression of horror on Max’s face as Aster promptly slipped out the door and left them _alone_ together.

The silence was suffocating. He felt Max’s furious eyes on him the entire time he turned the stove to a low flame and started steaming the milk. It wasn’t hard, once he had enough practice over the years cooking with his grandfather. While he sprinkled cinnamon in, he heard the scratch of chair legs on the floor as Max seated himself at the dining table.   
  
Aster did warn him he wasn’t speaking lately, which would worry David if he didn’t understand his reasons. After losing his own mother, he got pretty quiet too. He didn't go entirely mute, but he was certainly less chatty and he didn’t sing for a long time. “So do you really want me to explain what lancing is? Because it’s pretty yucky.” he asked.   
  
Max folded his arms on the table to make a rest for his chin and looked at him expectantly, yet he somehow managed to appear unimpressed at the same time.   
  
“Alright.” It actually was pretty gross to David, but it was a good metaphor on Aster’s part. “Well...when an injury becomes infected or is blocked up somehow, lancing is a surgical procedure to reopen it and alleviate the pressure. It lets out infected or trapped fluid, and after its cleaned and treated again. You can apply the same logic to emotional wounds sometimes, too, but it’s done with talking or other methods, not with scalpels and saline and whatnot.”   
  
He put a squeeze of honey into Max’s favorite mug and poured the milk in, then gave it a stir. Once he was satisfied he had replicated it, he brought it over to Max who turned his face away as he set it down. _ I know you’re mad at me, buddy, but please let me help you. You gotta stay in a sleep routine. _ _   
_ _   
_ “Can I sit with you?” he asked, and Max shrugged. David found a neutral answer encouraging, so he plunked down in the chair available next to the boy. He watched the milk go untouched, but noticed Max was looking at it with his exhausted eyes, duller than usual and the circles under them darker than ever. He wondered how many nightmares Max had at camp before things between them got better, how many nights he spent dealing with them alone. _Never again, _David thought and it comforted him a smidgen.   
  
“Things are pretty shitty, huh?” he asked, and Max huffed what almost sounded like a laugh. Cursing. That always got his attention. “Come on, a warm drink is good for the soul. Up you go-- there.”   
  
Max picked up the mug and smelled it distrustfully but he didn’t seem to find anything wrong with it. It was the smallest of successes that he drank it, but David wasn’t going to be picky. “Max, can I ask you something?” **Shrug**. “Are you mad at me for putting you in the cubby? I-In the wall. I didn’t mean to scare you, it was the only hiding spot I could think of that wasn’t obvious…”   
  
He trailed off, because Max was adamantly shaking his head in denial. “No?” he asked, and Max nodded once, looking frustrated. Now David was at a loss. Max just debunked his whole theory, and he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or more worried about what else could be wrong. “ _ Are _ you angry with me?”   
  
He never thought he would see the day when Max admitted to not being angry. But here he was, denying it right in front of him. David didn’t ask him anything after that. He let Max finish his milk, and when he was ready, he herded him up the stairs. He expected Max to head to his bedroom but he saw him hesitate in the hallway, swiveling head between his own room and David’s.   
  
David understood instantly what his dilemma was. “Hey, you can crash in my bed if you want.” David said reassuringly and Max shot him an accusatory look. “Like old times, at camp.”   
  
Max’s expression softened a little and he stayed put in front of David’s bedroom door until his former counselor opened it and guided him inside. It felt like any other weekend sleepover as David tucked him into the covers and as he did, he caught Max staring at the cast with wide eyes. “It doesn’t hurt, buddy.”   
  
“<strike>Bullshit</strike>,” Max mouthed silently.   
  
“...okay, it hurts, but casts are fun! And if you promise keep it P.G, you can write and draw whatever you want on it. In the _ morning _ .”   
  
Max rolled his eyes but let David finish tucking him in. David took a minute to open his laptop and tracked down five hours of Chopin on youtube, which should be more than sufficient, and set it at a low volume with the brightness down. He turned back to see Max shaking his head, so he tapped the spacebar to pause it. “No music?”   
  
Max scowled and pointed square at him, then at his guitar in the corner and David understood. The knots in the pit of his stomach loosened and he looked at Max with an apologetic smile. “I can’t play it right now, buddy. But I sing just fine still. Any requests?”   
  
Max looked around the room, before he finally just spoke. His voice was so feather-light that David got more from reading his lips than hearing it. “A song your mom knew?”   
  
David sat down on his side of the bed and tried to think of anything particular. So many songs and bands, the endless list that she could file through like the most advanced jukebox in the world but he was coming up empty. Max was still looking at him expectantly, but he appeared more and more anxious. David could already guess he was feeling guilty and he had to think of something fast.   
  
_ Music can be the guiding star in the dark times of our lives. _Her voice encouraged him gently. 

He finally did think of a song but the last time he heard it, it was filling a cathedral designed to make a single person’s voice swell like an updraft under a bird’s wings. Before then, it was sung just for him before Willow kissed his forehead and wished him good night.  
  
He wasn’t sure he was in practice enough for a hymn, but he did his best to find his choir voice for Max’s sake.   
_   
_ **“Sleeping baby on the wing,** **  
** **Clouds and starlight, starlight…”**   
  
Max rested his head properly against the pillow, and David could see him fighting to keep his eyes open. He could see the fear of going back to sleep, but it was a losing battle David was familiar with. He settled under the blanket next to Max, careful to leave him some space but Max seemed to not want it. Instead, he scooted closer and looked up at David hesitantly. “I gotcha,” he reassured him and Max settled against his side like nothing had ever been amiss between them, like they hadn't spent over a week in total separation. He rested his good arm around the ten year old.

**“Fly to dreams and morning’s brim,** **  
** **Starlight, sleep and love.”** _   
_ _   
_ David thought that Max was holding him awfully tight, but he focused on staying on key.   
  
**“Sleeping baby, shadowed dust** **  
** **Clouds and starlight, starlight, starlight…”**   
  
_ Is he shaking? _ He thought and looked down. Max had his eyes squeezed shut, but he could see the sparkle of teardrops under his jet black eyelashes and how he was holding in sobs. He was holding onto David with all the might an exhausted, grieving little boy could. _Poor _ _ little bear. _ _   
_ _   
_ **“When we’re called to go we must,** **  
** **Into starlight, sleep and love.”** _   
_   
He saw Max open his eyes for a moment, see the cast, shudder and close them again as he tightened his grip.   
  
And then David got smacked with an epiphany.

Max was the smartest kid he ever met. On top of all diagnosis, the evaluations yielded a high I.Q and he might even be ‘gifted’ but Aster decided the less tests, the better.  
  
So of course he would understand that David didn’t have a choice but to hide him, once he had the time to process it. _ He’s blaming himself for what happened. _   
  
At this rate, his heart felt like it was in a rock tumbler with how many cracks it was sustaining on Max’s behalf. He wanted to reassure him of the truth, that he wasn’t responsible for the things his father did, that he was the victim and not the perpetrator. He wanted to tell Max he was a good person who did good things and was loved by so many people, and tell him a thousand times that his father couldn’t hurt them. But it could wait until daylight.

“You take your time, Max. When you’re ready to talk again, I’ll be here.” he whispered, and turned off the side table lamp. He stayed up for a while, humming gently until he just couldn’t keep his eyes open a moment longer and fell asleep with his cheek resting against the top of Max’s head.   


* * *

  
  
David slept until eight, which for him was emotionally equal to past noon. He was pushed all the way to the edge of the bed and he looked over to the side through bleary eyes to Max was sprawled out rather ungracefully over majority of the available space and drooling a little bit on his pillow. Perfect, David thought with a smile and carefully got up to avoid waking him. Max could sleep in as late as he wanted. But he did make sure to tuck him in properly and make sure he wasn’t in danger of rolling off the side before he retreated to the bathroom to get dressed, then downstairs to start breakfast.   
  
The perks of having a professional baker for a grandparent? David got sent home with yummy things like clotted cream and macerated strawberries. He started with the pancake batter and while bacon sizzled away. He timed his cooking just right so he could fry up the eggs in the bacon fat and serve them on the plate while everything else was still hot, and made sure to put the cream and strawberries in separate little cups just in case they weren’t Max’s cup of tea.   
  
He made an extra plate for Gwen, coffee included, and ran it up to her room where she was already up and clacking away on her computer, surrounded by her scribbled notes. “Thanks,” she said absently but only picked up her coffee. “Max still here?”   
  
“He’s sleeping in. I’ll text you if it’s safe to come out?”   
  
“Sure. I can stay occupied.”   
  
David thanked her with a quick hug (she patted his arm idly in response, still focused on her research) and set off with Max’s plate to his own room. It was a hassle to get it open but he had mobility in his fingers back, so if he took his slow and focused, he was able to turn the knob with his casted hand.   
  
“Morning, sleepy head.” he smiled, and Max glared at him as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes which was always _ adorable _ to David. He had seen this kid set buildings on fire, sabotage diabolical Wood Scouts, put criminal masterminds in their place and more. But David never forgot under all of that, he was still a little kid. “Breakfast in bed, just for you. Sit up?”   
  
Once Max propped the pillows up and sat back, David set the tray down on his lap and knelt down to take a look at the bag Aster had packed for him. Max picked up the cream dish and looked at him questioningly. “It’s clotted cream. Dip a strawberry in it, I promise it’s the best.”   
  
Max eyed him suspiciously but followed his instructions. David watched knowingly as he chomped down on a berry and chuckled when his eyes got wide and he mouthed _ ‘holy shit’ _ before he started piling the stuff on his pancakes. “Yeah, Granda makes the best sweet stuff.”   


He laid out Max’s clothes, and heard something rustle in the backpack he didn’t recognize. He wondered if it was homework; sometimes Victoria printed practice sheets out to help Max prepare for his online tests. As he looked over it, Max made an intelligible sound of protest that would be riddled with profanity if he was still speaking. David quickly looked up, but it was too late. He already saw some of the sentences.  
  
Max reached over and yanked it out of his hands and glared down at the paper before he stuffed it under his pillow and turned back to David, sharply gesture his finger across his throat and then pointing at David, who held his hands up. “Okay, I get it! I surrender. I didn’t mean to snoop, Max, I’m sorry.”   
  
Max’s glare lingered before he gestured to David’s computer and waited expectantly. David followed his logic. “If you want to watch something, it’s going to be downstairs on the T.V.”   
  
As the boy threw his head back and groaned dramatically, David cleaned up his dishes and shooed him out of bed. “You can laze around on your butt all day and it’s okay by me, but wash up and get dressed to do it first.”

He lingered until Max heaved an exaggerated sigh and climbed out from under the covers. He hissed when his bare little feet hit the cold floor but he just snatched up his clothes and marched off to shower and brush his teeth. He was more self sufficient than David had expected him to be, but that was Max. He pushed on no matter what, whether or not it was the right thing to do. It was all he knew to do.  
  
David didn’t want him to be a depressed lump laying in a darkened room under coverlets, but he hoped he wasn’t pushing himself too hard to be more functional than he was able to handle.   
  
_ It’s different for everyone, _ he reminded himself and made his way to the kitchen and clean up. _ And Max’s mom was a very different person from mine. He may not miss her...I don’t know if that’s better or worse. It’s all so sad. _   
  
He finished washing the dishes and set them to dry, and rolled up his sleeves. There was no point dwelling on it. He had to make himself useful, or he would just go mad fretting over it all. He was getting to be a little too much like his godmother, and caught himself obsessively checking the security system was working and all the locks on the windows were done. He even had started thinking about getting a childlock of some kind so they couldn’t be jimmied from the outside, and then he thought _ Oh, gee, Aster would know what to do! _ And then he promptly went outside for some fresh cold air before he really went overboard, b ecause he was **not ** going to turn into a paranoid, overprotective sort of dad.   
  
Even if someone was trying to kidnap his potential child and his own family was obviously hiding crucial information from him...   
  
“Not dwelling,” he muttered, and hurried to the living room. He pulled the screen off the fireplace and began stuffing it with newspaper and wood before he got it lit. By the time it was going and he was putting the screen back on, he heard the couch cushions squeak. He looked over his shoulder with an automatic but no less genuine smile, “Hi.”   
  
Max waved a limp hand in response as he smoothed the sheet of paper over the table and dug his pen out of his backpack.

David picked up the remote and took his designated seat next to him, his eyes quickly comprehending the words on the paper. “So how’s the progress on it?” he asked.  
  
Max looked straight at him, made a finger gun and then pretended to shoot himself through the temple with it. Graphic, but I get your meaning, David thought with a shudder. “Want some help?” he asked.   
  
Max shrugged but settled down with the pen at the first question.

  


* * *

  
**Who is in your family?**   
  
Aster. She’s the toughest, coolest person I know.   
Victoria. She’s the nicest and she’s always right.   
Gwen. She’s my friend.   
David. He’s a good person. 

**What do you think makes someone family?**

They want me to be my best self, but still like me if I’m not there yet. 

**What are three things someone you like taught you that you appreciate knowing now?**   
  
Gwen taught me to step back and think.   
David’s teaching me music. It’s not the worst.   
Aster taught me how to rebel right. 

**Do you talk to anyone when you feel worried about something?**

Sometimes. I think I take too long to do it and it’s usually too late when I do. 

**How do you feel physically when you’re worried?**   
  
Hot and cold. Weird. I get shaky and feel like I’m gonna fall over. I start looking for something to hit or somewhere to hide and I go with whatever is first. I don't want to do either. 

**What’s something you’re worrying about right now?**   
  
My mom. I don’t want her in the ground. I wouldn’t want to be. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do for her now. 

**What’s your bedtime routine?**

Bath every other night. If Aster is home, she reads to me. They always put something on for me to listen to and leave the hallway light on. My dog Winnie sleeps with me. If David’s there, he sings. Having a routine is hard because of nightmares and asthma. 

  


* * *

  
  
Once Max was eating his lunch, David slipped out to call his godmother. When she didn’t pick up her cell, he called the station office phone and after enough clever prodding, he was transferred to her. “Hi,” he said as innocently as possible. “It’s me.”   
_   
_ _ “I bloody know it’s you, Davey.” _   
  
“Aw. You sound cranky.”   
  
She growled into the receiver and he decided teasing her was ill advised. “Sorry. This is a serious call, I swear...I wanted to ask about Rish-- about Max’s…”   
  
_ “What about her?” _   
  
“Her remains. What’s going to happen to them?”   
  
_ “They’re concluding the final autopsy results tomorrow night. After that, it’s not decided yet. Why?” _   
  
“I was wondering if you could release them to me? Or however that works?”   
  
_ “What?” _   
  
“I mean I want to handle her funeral service, Aster. For Max’s sake.”   
  
_ “Oh,” _ she said, her voice much softer and more contemplative. _ “I see. That’s very noble of you, Davey, but Rishima wasn’t Catholic. She was Hindu, and their practices are _ ** _much _ ** _ different. Cremation--” _   
  
“If cremation is what she would’ve wanted or what Max wants, then I’ll arrange it. I have no problem with it. Aster, if you could work something out, I’d be so grateful and I think it really would help Max. Just try, please?”   
_   
_ _ “I will. I’ll see you when I come to get him.” _   
  
“Okay...love you.”   
  
_ “I love you too, dear. _ ”   
  
David hung up and turned around, and froze.   
  
Max was standing in the doorway, holding an empty cup, probably looking to ask for seconds and just staring at David in disbelief. _Oh, goodness, he heard me. I should have asked him first._ “Hey, little bear. Listen--”   
  
He was cut off as Max dropped his cup, ran forward and locked his scrawny arms around David’s legs. He was transported back to Parents Day, how rushed and insecure the gesture of affection had been, probably intended to be too quick for David to react because Max wasn’t at all equipped to handle it being returned.   
  
But this was different. Max wasn’t avoiding it, he was holding on. David set his phone side so he could lay his hand on the top of his head, and noticed that he thought maybe Max had grown a bit. He’d have to check to be sure. “She’s not going in the ground.” he reassured him gently. “Whaddya say we have Gwen come down, and she can work her google-craft and we can learn all about what we need to do?”   
  
When Gwen was allowed downstairs, he could tell she was ashamed and scared but Max didn’t even look her in the eyes. He just waited for her to sit down with her computer and they set to work making a list.   
  
David still worried when Max never said a word, but he was back in his life again and he wasn’t about to take that for granted. He made sure to crumple up the cancellation papers and toss them into the fireplace when the two of them weren’t looking.


	5. Final Chapter

** _“Traitors get what they deserve.” _ ** _   
_ _   
_ _ He looked up in time to get a glimpse at his father’s face before the man slammed the door shut and plunged Max into darkness.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Hands bleeding, throat burning, complete darkness. He clawed at the wood until his nails were broken and fingers raw, he screamed until he had no voice left but a hollow rasp, and he cried until he had no tears left. He was so cold and tired, and he knew there was a growing layer of earth between him and the sky as the coffin was steadily buried. Nobody could hear him crying. Nobody would ever find him. He would die in here, and rot next to his mother for the rest of time, staying exactly the way he had lived. **Trapped**.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Max rubbed the cold wood over his face, and felt one more tear squeeze its way out and trickle down over his temple. There was almost no air left. It was any time now, and he just hoped it would be quick. How long did it take for someone to suffocate?  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Aster! David! Somebody, please, I don’t want to die!” he sobbed out loud and as a last ditch effort, pounded his hands against the wood again. It was the last moment of hope he felt before freezing dirt poured through the space and filled his eyes, his mouth, his lungs… _ _   
_ _   
_

* * *

_   
_ _   
_ The moment he opened his eyes, Max remembered it was only a dream, yet hat didn’t stop his heart from trying to jackhammer its way out of his ribcage. He felt a set of fingers combing his hair back from his sweaty forehead and he swallowed thickly, his throat aching as he looked up into Victoria’s warm eyes. With her hair frilled out all around and the flare of the sun through the window behind her illuminating it, she looked like she had a halo. “It’s that dream again?” she asked gently and laid her warm palm against his cheek, wiping his tears away with her thumb as she did.    
  
Without a word, Max sat up and leaned his head against her chest, sniffling. _I just want this to stop...  
  
_ “Oh, babycakes,” she murmured, as she wrapped her arms around him and cradled him tight. He stayed there until his heart slowed and he felt fully awake, like he was part of the living again. When Max was ready, he let her go and leaned back. As he was rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Vicky pulled the covers off his legs and got his slippers in place on the floor. He glanced over at his desk chair, where simplistic white linen clothes were waiting and he remembered what day it was.   
  
“Are you going to be okay if I go make you some breakfast?” Vicky asked.   
  
_ Yep _ , he thought silently as he nodded.   
  
Max went through the motions of showering, brushing his teeth and getting dressed. He lingered in front of the mirror with his shirt in his hands, twisting his head around over his shoulder to see the progress on his newest scar. It was much less discolored, but as he looked at it, his eyes wandered to all the others. Max quickly yanked his shirt over his head. _ I wonder if Mommy has--  _ ** _had _ ** _ any. Father hit her all the time, too.  _ _   
_ _   
_ Max realized for the first time that when it came to who got the belt or a hand raised to them, it had mostly been his mother. Towards the end, Father definitely started targeting him more for whatever sick reason but Max had always provoked him someway or been in the wrong place at the wrong time. With Mom, it was just...communication.    
  
He used to feel bad for her, even made the dire mistake getting between them once and Father made sure they both knew that wasn’t to be tolerated. After he was done punishing them both, his mother hugged him so tight it hurt and kept saying, “ _ Stupid boy, stupid  _ ** _stupid _ ** _ boy…” _ and kissing his head and crying.    
  
And then he hated her for never standing up to Father like he had.    
  
Now he felt bad for her again because she finally did it. She defied him, and he killed her with his cruelty. 

  
  
“Max!” Victoria called from downstairs and he shook off the thoughts. “Waffles!”   
  
He hurried out of the room, before he remembered something and grabbed a folded letter off of his desk, then went to get his breakfast. When he arrived downstairs, he stopped with a mental ‘wow’ at how crowded the table was. Laid out in transport crates were dozens of beautiful flowers, with thick waxy petals of gradient pink and white, yellow centers and lush green leaves.    
  
“Lotuses,” Victoria explained, as she made room for his plate and got him his coffee. “National flower of India...If they aren’t right, we can stop at the store and pick other ones.”   
  
Max wanted to thank her, but his voice just felt so blocked up. It was perfect. He didn’t know it was until he was seeing it, but he did know some things about his mother and one of them was that she had missed her home so much. She hadn’t left it for any lack of love. He gave Vicky a quick hug before he sat down and picked his way through his breakfast. No appetite, but she wouldn’t let him leave the table until he had eaten a good amount.   
  
He made sure to clean up his plate, even though Vicky would’ve happily done it for him, and waited anxiously until Aster rolled into the driveway from doing her part to get things ready. Max didn’t know how to feel about this part. He had told David it was fine, or rather didn’t argue with him since there was no verbal contribution on his part. But the entire drive through town, Max kept reading the words he had written over and over to get his mind off of their destination.   
  
“We’re here,” Aster said after a few minutes and Max looked up. The cathedral was towering high above him, the heavy clouds of November rain lazily parting in the distance to let streams of sunlight sparkle on the stained glass windows. He followed the steeples and stone spires down to the solid wooden doors that hung open and there were two people there, also dressed in the traditional white, waiting. David waved but didn’t call out.    
  
He scowled at Gwen, and hated himself for being a little relieved she was there. He wanted to keep being angry with her, for as long as he could, but it took so much more energy than it used to. He just wanted her to understand that if she ever fucking lied to him again...Well, he actually had no idea.  
  
Victoria opened the car door for him, “Come on, sweetie. Let’s not keep them waiting.”    
  
_I’m coming,_ he thought as he stepped out and shivered in the cold, but he didn’t want a jacket. He made his way up the many stone steps, and the cathedral seemed to grow taller and more threatening the closer he got. His pulse was jittery and his hands shaky and cold, but just as he was ready to turn around and quit, David put a warm hand on his shoulder. “You can do this, Max.” he said gently, and then offered the hand to him.   
  
Max stared at it despondently. He wanted so badly to be able to do this one thing alone, but he realized he wasn’t getting through those doors without David to help him. He kept the letter in one hand, and gripped David’s fingers tightly with a restrained nod.   
  
David lead him through the doors and Gwen closed them after Victoria and Aster passed through with the crates of flowers. It was much warmer inside, and smelled nice, and was much more colorful than Max expected. He dared to pull his gaze up from his feet to look at the rosewood pews they walked between, empty of people. There were bronze candle holders everywhere, glinting warmly, and the floor and off-white stone walls were speckled with green, rose pink, gold and a thousand more shades of each color in the rainbow in gem shaped lights from the windows that depicted saints and angels looking down at them with gentle eyes and smiles.    
  
It was actually very beautiful, and not nearly as menacing as he expected.    
  
They got to the end of the aisle, and Max caught a glimpse of the casket. Before he looked up high enough to see the contents, a voice in his head screamed at him not to look and he instinctively stepped behind David. He couldn’t get his body to stop shaking, no matter how he tried. David squeezed his hand, “I know, buddy...I didn’t want to see either. Do you want to know what Granda told me that helped?”   
  
Max was just trying to keep from completely losing it and running out of there, because he just didn’t want to see a real corpse, one that was in the room with him, a  **dead person** just feet away. It was a horrible nerve wracking feeling of utter revulsion and maybe if anyone could make it go away, it was David. So he looked up at him hopefully, at those gentle cool-green eyes and his smile that was smaller and more muted than usual for the occasion. “It’s not really her. It’s just the body she left behind now that her soul has passed on to a better place, and it's only purpose is for us to say goodbye to her. There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s not a bad thing, it's natural.”   
  
_ Souls _ , Max thought bitterly.  _ Another fairy tale _ .    
  
Although while he had been reading about Hinduism, truly for the first time in his life, he discovered that it was a shared concept. The immortal soul wasn’t exclusively Christian, Catholic or Jewish. It was something people believed in all across the globe for hundreds of years before they ever even crossed paths with another culture. It got Max wondering how it was possible to share an idea that had never, well, been shared.    
  
Of course, it wasn’t that Max thought souls weren’t real. _Does someone __need a soul to be a ghost? What about Jasper? He was a spirit wandering around without a body. What else could he be? And is_ _there such a thing as ‘passing on’_, Max wondered. 

Was there reincarnation? Recompense for your sins and rewards for your good deeds? Where would his mother go now? W as she just nothing?   
  
Max finally looked at the casket and inched closer to it. David stayed next to him every step, never once letting go of his hand until they were standing directly over it. Max held his breath and opened his eyes.    
  
His real mother didn’t have so much pink in her cheeks or look so well rested. She had sunken eyes with bruises under them, a drained complexion that she hid under make up and how she framed her hair to hide how thin her face was, because the less the two of them ate, the weaker they were to fight back. 

She didn’t look like a princess in a story book, sleeping peacefully and just waiting to wake up, with her perfect hair and perfect face. It was all fake work by a mortician to conceal the effects of the autopsy and make her presentable for the open casket. 

  
  
_ Father had always picked her clothes for her, as a way of erasing where they had come from. But Max knew his mother once kept a dress of her own hidden, and she let him look at it sometimes, showing him the sparkling embroidery and vibrant colors, and told him it was called a  _ ** _gagra choli_ ** _ and it was the only thing she had from India.  _

_ He had been no more than five years old, and pleaded with her to put it on so he could see what it really looked like outside of a plastic bag. So many times before he had asked, and she always said no, but this time she had finally relented and agreed. “But it’s our little secret from Father, understand? And we have to hide it before he gets home.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ So he waited with his eyes closed and covered with his hands, until she told him he could look. He almost didn’t recognize his own mom. She smiled at him,  _ ** _actually smiled_ ** _ , and turned in a circle, the skirt twirling and sparkling like all the light in the room was soaked into it and he wanted something sparkly to wear, too, to match her. It was the most beautiful sight he had seen in his whole life up until then.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Mommy, you’re so pretty!” and like the dumb little kid he was who had no idea how dire his actions were, he copied her twirls until he got dizzy and fell down giggling. His mother helped him up and held his hand to keep him steady. She seemed almost as excited as he was, and he felt so happy to see her that way. “ _ ** _Moorkh bachcha_ ** _ . Watch me, I’ll show you how we dance in India.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Whas’sat mean?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “You’re a silly baby,” she translated, and tickled his cheek, making him laugh again with a, “not a baby!” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ He followed her gestures as best he could, trying to copy how she held her hands and arms, how she could balance on one foot in graceful motions that were as easy for her as breathing but he just kept falling over or getting it wrong. It didn’t matter. It was a good moment. He watched her in awe, and she looked down at him, her dimples defined in her cheeks and eyes shining, looking just like how he imagined an Indian princess would if he had any idea what one would look like. And he wondered why Father wouldn’t let her wear this dress and dance, because it was the best thing ever.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Her smile vanished. Her jade eyes went wide with terror, all the happy rosiness in her face blanched white again. She suddenly reached down, grabbed him by the wrist and yanked hard to pull him behind her. It hurt, and he cried out in pain. He looked up to ask her why she did it just in time to see Father to storm up and crack her across the face with the back of his hand so hard, she was knocked to the floor.  _

_ He was home early. And he had seen them daring to be anything besides what he allowed.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ When Max got the chance, he ran as fast as he could from that room and to his own, the sound of fabric tearing and his mother crying not quieted at all by a closed door. He hid under his bed and waited until he couldn’t hear it anymore, and for a long time after that. He heard them go downstairs and the backyard door open and slam shut again. When he felt brave enough, he got up and stood on his tippy toes to look through the window.  _ This had been before Father cleared out his original bedroom, and sent him to live in the basement out of sight, out of mind.  _   
_ _   
_ _ The last time he saw that pretty dress was when his father was throwing it into the fire pit. His mother was back to wearing the stark white, basic modest clothes of his selection and he could see her sobbing on her knees as the silk smoldered, blackened and was erased in smoke.  _ _   
_   
Max bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. It was Hindu tradition for the mourners and body to be in white, but he diverted from tradition and asked David if they could find her a new dress, another  _ gagra choli.  _ This one was a rich turquoise, embroidered all over with shimmering gold.    
  
He heard a sniffle behind him and snapped his head around to see Gwen turning away as she covered her mouth with one hand.    
  
“Do you want to do the flowers now?” David prompted him gently.   
  
Better sooner than later, Max thought and nodded. Aster and Victoria set the crates down and everyone began picking up the lotuses and arranging them carefully to frame his mother’s body. Max’s hands shook so badly he could barely get it done, but he tucked them into her hair and around her face and shoulders, finishing just after everyone else.    
  
He stepped back and David set his hands on his shoulders, the one in a cast a little less comforting but it didn’t get in the way too much. Max slowly unfolded the letter and read it again for the thousandth time. “You--” he started, his voice thin and whispery. He coughed. 

_ It’s not that fucking hard. Just do it. Tell her off. _   
  
“You were a shitty mom.” he blurted out, and knew everyone around him winced. “Even when you were actually trying to be good, you fucked it up. I have bad dreams about you, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to deal with all the messed up shit you put in my head. You taught me to always be scared and made me think there was something  _ wrong  _ with me. M-maybe there is--”   
  
“Max,” David said softly, but Aster shushed him.   
  
He powered through, his voice growing steady and enunciated again. “I don’t know. But I do know that he hurt us both. And a lot of the things you did were your own way of trying to protect me, because he made it so it was always choose your evil. You didn’t have the option to be good, even if you wanted to be and-- and I think you did, and you would have if you could’ve been. If you spend enough time with Father, you kind of forget how to love anything, so…”   
  
He looked up at David, who he could see was doing his best not to cry and failing miserably.  _ And if you spend enough time with David, you forget how to hate things. _ “It doesn’t make any of the things you did okay, but I don’t want to blame you anymore. Because you finally stood up to him, and this is what you got for it. You finally did something right as a mom and now…”  _ You’re gone. Dying for me was the stupidest fucking thing you ever did. _   
  
David pulled him closer, and wrapped an arm over his chest to hug him. Max couldn’t even see now through the tears. “Anyway, uh...I’m going to try to forgive you someday. And I hope that wherever you are now, you can find peace.”   
  
_ Peace _ . Not a forced sleep she found through choking down pills and sticking needles full of poison in her skin because she would rather spend almost her entire life in a stupor, unable to feel her pain and fear. But true rest, where no one could ever hurt her again. Max stared down at her face, trying to memorize the features. Her wild curls that were limp now, that she passed down onto him and her eyes the color of jade that he always thought were so much prettier on her but looked awkward on him in contrast with his dark skin.    
  
He tried to picture her smiling and dancing without his father in her thoughts, happily playing with her son, trying to teach him scraps of his heritage and give him a sense of self.   
  
_ You should never have had me _ , he thought, breaking away from David to put the letter in the casket. He folded it up and tried to slide it into her hand, but it was stiff as a statue and so horribly cold.  _ If I was never born, you would probably be alive.  _   
  
Max realized he was standing there for a long time, and people were going to start thinking he was genuinely grieving, which he was not. He stepped aside and gestured to Gwen, “Hey. Say goodbye or whatever. I’m done.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
She watched Max cross his arms tightly, shoot one final look of pure and utter disdain her way and then march off to sit down in a pew. David hung between them awkwardly and looked at her, clearly torn. Gwen wanted him at her side, but she was twenty five and not his kid, so she nodded for him to go. David mouthed _thank you_ at her before he hurried to sit down next to Max.    
  
She made her way to the casket, and reached into her pocket and produced a small wooden statuette. It was a panther, no bigger than her palm, painted black with turquoise stones for its eyes. Gwen knelt down next to the casket and looked at Rishima’s still features. She didn’t care if it was morbid. She reached into the casket and smoothed her hand over her ebony hair, just the way she did to calm her down after she woke up screaming from nightmares in their tiny apartment. “Hey, Rish,” she rasped. “I got you a kitty.” and she placed the statuette among the flowers.    
  
She continued to pet her hair, silent as tears began to well up and she gasped when she couldn’t hold in her sobs anymore. “Shit,” she mumbled and wiped her eyes. “Now I’m crying in front of you. Jesus, you cried all the fucking time, you know? It was so _annoying_. You drove me up the wall but somehow you managed to get me wrapped around your finger and made me love you. Guess Max got it from somewhere...You told me once I was your guardian angel. It was so cheesy, you sounded like a little kid.”   
  
They were falling freely down her cheeks now, and Gwen took one of the flowers and tucked it into Rishima’s hair. “I should have stayed with you. I let you down...But I am never, ever going to give up on your son. And there is no where Sunil can hide from me. He’s going to pay for everything he’s done, I promise...but you don’t need to worry about that or Max. You just rest now, okay? I’ve got it.”   
  
She stood up and placed a light kiss on Rishima’s forehead, holding her breath as she did so she didn’t smell all the chemicals and staleness of death. Then she backed off to the side, and kept a straight face with dry eyes.  _ He’ll pay _ .

  
  


* * *

  
  
While Victoria took Max to get some lunch and recover before the rest of the ceremony, David lingered in the cathedral, waiting for the attendants that would take her to be cremated. He looked down at this woman he had never met, but his heart had broken for her. He was still trying to wrap his mind around how to even feel about her. She had hurt Max, but tried to protect him. She spent eleven years tortured by his father. And just when she should have been broken, one last act of rebellion that sealed her fate brought him the best thing in his entire life; Max.   
  
He felt so disconnected from this place, despite all the childhood memories he spent her, smiling and chatting with neighbors and other kids after Sunday mass as they ate scones and drank tea. Singing with his mother, praying with his grandfather and trying with all his might not to giggle when Granda made silly faces at him during readings or they would both be scolded. His communions, his confirmation, this was even the very place he had been christened and baptized. It was a staple in his life, and in so many others. This wasn’t just where the devout Catholics of Sleepy Peak found a safe place to worship, it was one of the very first buildings to ever be constructed when the town was founded, and his ancestors had been among them. It had been an asylum to anyone who needed it. Sanctuary.    
  
It was also where his mother had her own open casket.    
  
David slowly knelt down and checked to make sure he was still alone. He almost never did this anymore, only in the most absolute dire of circumstances but it felt right. He closed his eyes, rested his hands clasped together against the side of the casket and bowed his forehead against them.    
  
He hadn’t been to Mass in years. No confessions, no communion, no grace at dinner. But he still remembered the words.   
  
“Incline Thine ear, O Lord, unto our prayers, wherein we humbly pray Thee to show Thy mercy upon the soul of Thy child Rishima, whom Thou hast commanded to pass out of this world, that Thou wouldst place her in the region of peace and light, and bid her be a partaker with Thy Saints. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.”   
  
He almost stood up. But he wasn’t finished. He clenched his jaw and looked up at the elaborate carving of the so called  _ savior  _ that looked down, crowned in thorns, from the very center most part of the wall above. He felt that long buried ember of anger of every prayer for his mother to get better, for his father to come back, to be reunited with who he thought had been the love of his life years ago but no prayer ever seemed to be answered. Every time he knelt, closed his eyes and reached his heart out, he was left feeling more alone than ever.   
  
“Her soul is worth being saved.” he said, not knowing what higher power might hear. There had to be one. There had to be a plan, there had to be more to existence than a material life, he _believed_ that. He just didn’t know if he believed in the clear-cut version he grew up learning. “If her own son can forgive her for what she’s done, then so can you.”

  
He saw the attendants coming and stood up quickly to go find someone to help get his mind off of things. He wandered outside into the gardens, his feet unconsciously following the path to the graveyard. David zipped up his jacket against the cold as he made his way to the Rowntree family plot, and noticed instantly he wasn’t alone. He saw Aster standing solemnly over a headstone, turning something over in her hands.   
  
He stayed very quiet as he joined her side and peeked over. “Oh…”   
  
“It’s just cider.” She huffed, unscrewing the flask top. “Grown up cider, but still.”   
  
David tried not to worry. They were standing over her husband’s grave, of course she might need something to take the edge off. “...Can I have a little bit?” he asked, giving in to the temptation. His arm was hurting and he was fucking **stressed**.   
  
“Sure,” she passed it over to him. It was sweet, tart and a little cinnamon-y, but didn’t burn too much. David hated hard liquor. They passed it back and forth, as he read over Terrin’s epitaph. Aster spoke up, “Y’know Aurora Drive? The road that goes up the mountain, to the hiking grounds?”   
  
He knew it well, and he knew that Aster knew he did. He spent a lot of time up there as a teenager, driving the long mountain pass to find spots to look over the town and watch fireworks and meteor showers with a certain someone who scrawled their initials on his car stereo. “It’s closed off this time of year.”   
  
“I pulled some strings. Seems like a good place to find somewhere to scatter some ashes.”   
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
David still wouldn’t let him sit in the front seat of the car. “When you’re tall enough,” David promised every time he demanded it. So he was stuck in the back seat again, holding a tightly sealed urn on his lap, staring at the name engraved on the front. He couldn’t believe a whole person was reduced to just three pounds of ash, and fit in this small container.    
  
He listened to the radio that filled the silence, as they rumbled down the road through the trees and steadily up towards the peaks.    
  
_ “An inmate at Sleepy Peak Penitentiary was found deceased in the workshop early this morning,” the news reporter’s voice droned. “And was identified as Simon Beck.” _ _   
_ _   
_ Max sat straight up like a meerkat.  _ That’s Daniel’s older brother!  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Sleepy Peak Pen’s warden has yet to comment on the matter, but sources suggest that he was killed by fellow inmates. Beck was scheduled to be transferred to protective custody due to threats and multiple assaults. The child predator was serving a life--” _ _   
_ _   
_ David quickly changed the channel and Max was left with those two words tumbling around in his head.  _ Child predator. Also known as a fucking pedophile...Did Daniel’s brother--?  _ _ Is every horrible person just a product of another what another horrible person did to them?! _ _   
_   
“Fuck!” Max didn’t mean to shout it, as he hurled the urn into the seat next to him and kicked at the floor in frustration. David jumped in alarm and slowed the car down, exclaiming in panic, “Max, are you okay?”   
  
“No! I’m not fucking okay!  _ Why would I be okay?! _ The world is full of murderers and fucking child-predators and cultists and everyone is crazy including ME! I’m so fucking stupid! I actually thought that maybe the world was good with good people that did good things! But it turns out, it’s just as bad as I thought and all the bad people are doing their fucking best to wipe out the good! So what’s the point? Why should I try to be better?!”   
  
It was all pouring out now. Every choked back word, every pushed down emotion, every buried fear he kept inside since Halloween and long before that came pouring out. Max didn’t even realize David has stopped the car altogether, as he beat on the door and seat with his feet and fists. He went from mute, to speaking, to screaming in one day. “None of it MATTERS! If you try to be good, someone evil cuts you down! But if you stay a shitty person, you end up alone and you’re a part of the problem! It’s all just a circle that keeps going around, and I’m stuck in it and Mom only got out by fucking dying and it’s the only way I’ll get out, David! If I just died already, everyone would be better off! My father won’t give a shit about you and Gwen and everyone if I’m gone. And then at least I wouldn’t have to be stuck not knowing what I’m supposed to do, because I don’t know what to do, David, because I can’t make any of it right and everything I touch I destroy and everyone I meet I hurt even if I’m trying not to, he’ll just come back and do it for me and…”   
  
Max broke down. He really, truly fell apart, not just sobbing but full on wailing like a little kid, tears pouring down his face and completely losing the ability to breathe through his nose. He heard the  ** _ding, ding, ding!_ ** Of the drivers door being ajar and looked around, hyperventilating and coughing up a storm until David was in the seat next to him and producing his spare inhaler from his coat pocket. He was so hysterical that David had to shake and hold it for him.   
  
“Let’s walk the rest of the way,” David said gently, once he had sufficient time to get his breath back. “the car will be fine.”   
  
He bundled up Max with the spare sweatshirt he kept in the car, tucked the earn into his backpack and adjusted the straps to fit Max, who was still trembling and trying to just get his bearings. So when David offered him a ride on his back, he obediently accepted and they started their way up the trail. The gentle back and forth rocking of David’s steps lulled Max into a half-sleep, exhausted from his outburst. He still sniffled and there were plenty more tears, but watching the trees go by and the fresh air did help calm him a little bit, even if it was really cold. But David didn’t seem to mind.   
  
They were fortunate that the hiking grounds weren’t far. David, however, cut around the entrance and began trekking his way over the rocky outcroppings that hugged the mountain side. The trees and plants became more scarce, and dirt and gravel gave way to hard, flat stone. “Hey, check it out,” he said cheerfully and Max lifted his head.   
  
“Whoa,” he said aloud.  _ That’s gotta be the whole state of Oregon! _ _   
_   
They were so high up, and Max could see for a hundred miles, trees and more trees, rivers and fields, birds and he even saw some deer crossing down below, completely unaware of their presence. The wind picked up and David set him down, as Max shivered. He took his backpack off and David unzipped his jacket to wrap the extra layer around Max, as the rock seemed to glow orange in the dying light of the now setting sun. “I know I don’t seem like I would understand, kiddo, but I know how you’re feeling. Why should we bother being good if it doesn’t matter with all the bad there is in the world? You feel like you can’t make a difference...but didn’t I make a difference to you?”   
  
Max stared up at him, shocked. It was such a direct question, he couldn’t even think of a lie. He could only answer honestly. “Well, yeah…”   
  
“And you made one for me.”   
  
Max slowly shook his head but David smiled and held his smaller hands in his one good one to warm them up, “You did. You helped me be more down to earth and to be tougher where it counted and to face things head-on. I reconciled with my grandfather and started visiting my mom again because of you. There’s so many scary stuff I can do now because you’ve helped me be a stronger and braver person!”   
  
“That doesn’t make any fucking sense. I’m not brave,” Max snatched his hands away. “You-- you got hurt because of me. And all I did was hide.”   
  
“Max, that wasn’t your fault.”   
  
“Wasn’t it? She was there for me...I’m just so fucking scared.” Max’s voice cracked a little bit. “Because I actually like my life now and I like the people in it, I’m happy for once. I’ve _been_ happy! But then he ruined all of it and now he might take it all away. He might take  _ you  _ away.”   
  
Max stared down, too drained to even work up one more tear, but it didn’t stop his lip from quivering and his breathing from shuddering. “He’s getting to me, David. I’m the same scared, weak kid I always was and everything else is a  _ lie _ .”   
  
“No, you are  _ not _ . You are intelligent, creative and so very, very sweet, Max. Being brave isn’t always about not feeling afraid or fighting back. The bravest thing you can ever do is choose to be kind. People like your father and...and the man you heard about on the radio and all the millions of others that do awful things expect the world to bend to them so they can get away with it. But people like you,” he nudged Max’s chin, encouraging him to look up at him, so Max did. “Stand your ground and tell them  _ no _ . You won’t be like them. You fight back by being better.  _ That’s _ the bravest thing. You hold on to that, and you’ll be unbreakable.”   
  
Max looked up at the stupid, wide smile he had come to hate and love and he returned it in his own shaky, tearful way. _ Unbreakable like you. Idiot. _   
  
He nodded in understanding, and unzipped his backpack and took the urn out. He unscrewed the top and faced the cliff edge. He made his way over to it and David kept a protective arm around him just in case he slipped, even though it was actually perfectly stable.    
  
Max took a deep breath, his lungs aching but it was satisfying anyway. This was perfect. An endless sky and lush green that went on forever until it hit the open sea. “Wait until the wind changes,” David minded him. “Aaaand...now.”   
  
It was simple enough to pour the contents into the open air and they were almost the color of snow. As they caught on the wind, they flurried into swirls and trails and faded into the open air and were gone. They stayed there until Max was truly shivering and David decided to move things along. He carried him all the way back to the car, and they drove home in calm silence until they got back to Aster’s house, where the lights were on.    
  
“We’re home!” David announced, as he hung up their coats and Max wandered into the kitchen to find Aster, Gwen and Victoria sitting around chatting loudly, apparently having cracked open a bottle of wine. Gwen immediately became more serious.    
  
Max stared at her for a minute and he could feel the tension in the room before he realized it wasn’t worth it. Gwen wasn’t the bad guy here, and didn’t deserve to keep being punished for just trying to protect him. “Can I try?” he demanded, pointing at her glass.   
  
A crooked grin spread across her face, “Sure, in twenty years and a week.”   
  
“Fuck you, Gwen.”  
  
"Fuck you, Max."  
  
“Language!” Victoria and David exclaimed in unison, while Aster cackled.    
  
He sat down at the table as David rummaged around the kitchen to get some hot chocolate made, and everyone went back to talking. Aster swapped stories with Gwen about unruly campers and particularly interesting stories from the police station, leading to uproarious laughter and shocked gasps all around for the next hour.    
  
They quieted down after a while, and sat together in contemplation. At least until Aster started humming. And David looked at her with a smile, and joined in the tune he seemed to know as well, harmonizing with her. Aster closed her eyes and leaned against Victoria, who hugged her arms around her and kissed her cheek.  _ “Oh all the money that e’er I had...I spent it in good company,” _ Aster sang softly. Max was floored. He had never heard her sing. Whistle, sure, lots of times but this was new.    
  
“ _ And all the harm that e'er I've done _

_ Alas, it was to none but me _

_ And all I've done for want of wit _

_ To memory now I can't recall _

_ So fill to me the parting glass _

_ Good night and joy be with you all… _ ”   
  
David started to sing with her, taking the lower harmony as they formed an achingly beautiful duet without guitar or piano to accompany them, but the sound swelled and filled the house like the warmth of a hearth. Max didn’t fight it as Gwen lifted him up onto her lap and snuggled him close to listen together. She smelled like coffee beans and library books, and he was so glad this tiny feud between them was done.   
  
_ “Oh all the comrades that e'er I've had _

_ Are sorry for my going away _

_ And all the sweethearts that e'er I've had _

_ Would wish me one more day to stay _

_ But since it falls unto my lot _

_ That I should rise and you should not _

_ I'll gently rise and I'll softly call _

_ Good night and joy be with you all.” _   
  
His eyelids were so heavy, he just couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.    
  


_ “Good night and joy be with you all… _ ”   
  
The day that felt like it would never end was over, and he barely felt it as he was carried upstairs by Gwen, the last notes fading in his ears as she tucked him warmly into his bed and gently ran her fingers along his back, up and down and in little circles to soothe him to sleep just the way she did when he was in the hospital, when he was at camp. One by one, the rest of his family came to tell him goodnight. His foster moms kissed him on the head and David put on his piano music for him. He sat on the bed next to Gwen, and pushed his shaggy hair out of his eyes. “Hey, guess how much I love you?” he asked.   
  
“More than there’re trees,” Max mumbled tiredly, barely able to even manage that. He was just so ready for sleep.   
  
“In the forest. And more than there is salt in the sea and…”   
  
“Stars in the sky.”   
  
“You got it,” David helped Winifred up onto the bed beside him and turned off the light. Gwen turned on the hallway light as they left, and cracked the door to let in just the right amount of light.   
  
When Max went to sleep that night, he dreamed about new snow and an endless sky to walk free under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just noticed I end things with Max being tucked in a lot, which I love those scenes but that also means i may have a problem. ANYWAY
> 
> Your guys's comments keep me going, I love them so much, thank you!


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